


Only The Good Die Young

by kinole009x



Category: Bohemian Rhapsody (Movie 2018), Queen (Band)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Difficult Decisions, Discussion of Abortion, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Forbidden Love, Friendship/Love, Protective Parents, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2020-03-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:08:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 53,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21724285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinole009x/pseuds/kinole009x
Summary: Remember that Billy Joel song about only the good dying young? Well, let's say the Catholic girl in the song is Veronica Tetzlaff.Coaxed out from the stained-glass curtain she's been hiding behind her entire life, Veronica goes against her parents' wishes and begins a secret relationship with a mysterious young bass player.  She soon finds herself in more trouble than she could have ever imagined.
Relationships: John Deacon/Veronica Tetzlaff
Comments: 53
Kudos: 76





	1. Chapter 1

_You might have heard I run with a dangerous crowd_  
 _We ain't too pretty, we ain't too proud_  
 _We might be laughing a bit too loud_  
 _Aw but that never hurt no one_  
  
 **Winter 1971  
**  
It was a beautiful evening.  
  
Not too hot, not too cold, brightly lit by a full, round moon. The slightest hint of a breeze.  
  
And the loud, thundering footsteps of a heavy male, chasing you down the sidewalk.  
  
Could I really ask for anything more? Veronica thought sarcastically to herself as she took long, urgent strides and wished there was something other than houses and lamp posts around, some place that would offer her a quick, casual refuge. Somewhere to hide.  
  
She shifted her purse so that she was holding it against her belly and thought angrily about how she would now be forced to find a ride from work, if it was becoming _this_ unsafe to walk home. She closed her eyes against the vision of her parents picking her up from her nanny duties at night. She was _twenty-one_ , she was much too old for that!  
  
Veronica glanced over her shoulder and saw the man, hands shoved deeply in his pocket, quickening his pace and staring directly at her. She swallowed her fear and stared ahead once more, where she finally saw her saving grace.  
  
Bright neon sign, loud music, unnecessarily crowded...why did it have to be a disco? But it was better than nothing, so Veronica pushed open the door and disappeared inside.  
  
As she took a few steps into the dimly lit space, she looked over her shoulder once more and was relieved to see that she hadn't been followed. In fact, the man had continued on. Maybe she was paranoid, maybe he was just working on his physique and getting some brisk evening exercise in, maybe...  
  
Veronica bumped into someone, who promptly spilled his drink on himself.  
  
Feeling her cheeks burning red with embarrassment, Veronica inhaled sharply.  
  
"I am _so_ sorry," she said loudly, trying to make her voice heard over the music. "I should have been watching where I was going, but I...oh, I'm so, so sorry!"   
  
"It's f-fine, truly," a quiet voice said, and Veronica looked up into the kindest eyes she had ever seen.  
  
The young man who was now wearing his drink was tall and thin, with long, shoulder-length brown hair and a sweet, easy smile. He did not seem one bit affected by the alcohol that was soaking his Beatles t-shirt.  
  
Awkwardly lowering her gaze and sticking a hand in her purse, Veronica said, "At least let me buy you another drink."  
  
"N-no," the young man stammered. "No, there's really no need. But..." He hesitated, before saying bravely, "perhaps I could buy you one instead?"  
  
A loud laugh echoed from behind the man and Veronica looked into a pair of eyes that were decidedly much less kind.  
  
"Be careful, John," a second man, who was not laughing, warned. "Her father would have you strung up the nearest tree if he found out."  
  
"Yeah," the first man said. "And besides, I'm sure no man will ever get through that chastity belt she's wearing!"  
  
Mortified, Veronica looked away.  
  
John's cheeks burned red. "That wasn't...that wasn't my intention."  
  
"John," the second man said seriously as he touched his arm. "That's ole' man Tetzlaff's daughter. She's untouchable."  
  
The first man leered at Veronica. "Shouldn't you be getting home to your altar, darling?"  
  
Blinking back tears, Veronica spun around and left the disco, not even caring if she encountered the strange man who had been following her. Anything would honestly be better than what she had just experienced.  
  
As she continued her walk home, Veronica wiped angrily at the tears in her eyes. Was that truly what people thought of her? She knew her parents had a reputation for being very devout, very strict, and very Catholic. But she hadn't thought that it had reflected on her own reputation quite so much.  
  
Storming into her family's home, Veronica locked the door behind her and ran up the stairs.  
  
"Veronica, is everything all right?" Her mother's voice called from the sitting room.  
  
Veronica paused on the stairs. "I just don't feel well, Mum. I'm going to bed." And with that being said, she shut herself in her room with a book for the night and vowed to never go into a disco ever again.  
  
\---  
  
The following Friday night, Veronica was once again walking home after finishing her nanny duties for the evening and once again, she found herself approaching the dreaded disco.  
  
She let relief fill her heart as she realized that this time, she had no reason to go inside. But that relief was short-lived when the door opened and a small group of loud young men poured out onto the sidewalk. One of them bumped right into her.  
  
"Oh, sorry, missus," he drawled, as Veronica stumbled backwards, before recognition lit up his face.  
  
"Oh, look!" He exclaimed. "It's our favorite virgin Mary!"  
  
Veronica found herself looking into the same unkind eyes from the Friday before. Folding her arms, she put her head down and prepared to push past him, but he blocked her path.  
  
"Isn't that skirt a bit short, Miss Tetzlaff?" Another man asked as he tilted his head and gave her a long look up and down.  
  
"Indeed," a third man agreed. "I'm surprised her parents let her out of the house dressed like that."  
  
"Please," Veronica whispered tightly. "Let me pass."  
  
The first man wrapped a strong arm around her shoulders and steered her towards the door of the disco. "Perhaps I could buy you a drink?"  
  
Veronica squirmed against him, while the second man whispered in her ear, "What mummy and daddy don't know won't hurt them, eh?"  
  
The door of the disco opened and Veronica found herself face to face with the kind, young man they called John. He took one look at her current predicament and reached out a hand to her.  
  
The calm, rational friend from the week before was behind him and caught his hand mid-air. "What did I tell you, John? You can look at her, but you can't touch."   
  
He glared at the man holding her, who instantly let her go.  
  
"And honestly," the calm one whispered in John's ear. "I wouldn't even look."  
  
Uncharacteristic anger burned in Veronica's stomach, because how _dare_ these vulgar men talk about her as if they knew her! Turning on her heel, she hurried away while clasping her hands together tightly to stop her fingers from trembling and trying to keep her peace of mind, though she felt quite sick.  
  
She had done _nothing_ to them! Why did people have to be so cruel?  
  
If she had bothered to look over her shoulder, she would have seen John staring after her, before turning a fierce look upon his friends.  
  
"Leave her be," he said in a quiet, dangerous voice, before turning and walking in the opposite direction.  
  
\---  
  
On the third consecutive Friday night, Veronica was ready for them.  
  
Unfortunately, there wasn't an alternative route home, but she took heart knowing she could still put distance between herself and them.   
  
In the distance, she saw the group loitering outside the disco, and instead of walking past them, she stopped at the crosswalk. Nervously, she pressed the call button at the traffic light three times.  
  
The cat calls started about ten seconds after that. Veronica balled her hands into fists as she ignored them and waited desperately for the crosswalk light to indicate that it was safe to cross the street.  
  
She completely lost her nerve when she heard footsteps behind her. Quickly looking both ways, she calculated that the oncoming traffic was far enough away to give her enough time to dash to the other side. Taking a deep breath, she stepped out into the street.  
  
All she remembered after that moment was hearing the loud screeching of a car's breaks, the frantic honking of a horn, and the sensation of two hands grabbing her waist and yanking her back.  
  
Veronica looked up into the gray eyes of John, who didn't remove his arm from around her waist. But it didn't feel threatening, like when his friend had held her and tried to force her into the disco the week before. Rather, she felt safe and secure.  
  
He didn't say anything; he merely stared down at her, his eyes full of fear and glancing over her shoulder, Veronica saw how close she had come to becoming part of the pavement. And she suddenly felt very foolish.  
  
The crosswalk light flashed, indicating it was safe to cross. Without so much as a word, Veronica tore herself away from John and ran across the street.  
  
She didn't stop running until she reached her home. Sitting on the front porch steps, she put her face in her hands and tried to calm herself down enough to go inside.  
  
Which, unfortunately, gave her enough time to acknowledge to herself that this was _not_ at all like her. She was a calm and unpretentious young woman. She _was_ not a fearful and impulsive girl, yet that's exactly what she had turned into ever since the first night in the disco when John's friends had said those things about her...  
  
Ever since then, she had viewed herself in an entirely different light. She had been looking into mirrors more often, scrutinizing her appearance, and second guessing the things she said and the decisions she made. And she wondered, _was_ she really just the goody two shoes daughter of a strict Catholic couple?  
  
She realized now that by running across the street, she wasn't just running from John and his friends.   
  
She was running from these new revelations about herself.  
  
\---  
  
The next evening, Veronica found herself in an evergreen wonderland, as her parents and other members of their church searched for a beautiful wreath for the door of the church. A gentle snow was falling and the sound of Christmas carols filled the air and, surrounded by the potent scent of pine, Veronica should have been feeling very festive.  
  
But her mind was elsewhere. As she followed her parents around and hugged her jacket tighter around her, she found all she could think of was her near death experience. And though she knew it was unreasonable, she couldn't stop focusing on what other people thought of her. She had once thought she had been passing through life relatively unknown and now she knew she had a reputation for being utterly pure and totally under control of her very religious parents. When had that even happened? When had...  
  
Veronica was pulled from her thoughts by the sensation of being poked in the shoulder.  
  
She turned to see a girl roughly her age, one of the daughters of the church parishioners, smiling mischievously at her.  
  
"I think someone has taken a liking to you," she said and nodded over her shoulder.  
  
Veronica turned to see John leaning against a fence, his arms folded. Very slowly, the left side of his mouth lifted into a shy smile as their eyes met.  
  
Turning away immediately, Veronica was about to declare how very uninterested she was, when she bumped into their pastor's son.  
  
Archibald Reginald was tall, and boisterous, and very, _very_ touchy. As he planted his hands on Veronica's shoulders, he said in a jolly voice, "Veronica! So good to see you!"  
  
"And you as well," Veronica muttered, as she quickly slipped away from him and all of the unwanted attention she was receiving.  
  
Finding a particularly large, fluffy tree, Veronica crouched down behind it, and with a sigh, ran a hand down her face.  
  
"Hello."  
  
Upon hearing a soft voice, Veronica's head snapped up. She found herself looking up a pair of long legs, to a torso clad in a leather jacket, and finally, to the kind face of John Deacon.  
  
"Hi," Veronica said stupidly as she stared up at him.  
  
John crouched down so that he was at her level. "I...I wanted to see if you were all right after what happened last night."  
  
 _Act naturally, Veronica, act like it's no big deal.  
_  
"I'm fine," Veronica said casually.  
  
"You were sort of almost hit by a car."  
  
 _Sort of._  
  
"Yes, I know, but..." Veronica shrugged and forced herself to look back at him, realizing she hadn't properly thanked him. "I wasn't and I have you to thank for that."  
  
John's cheeks turned red and it wasn't because of the cold.  
  
"I'm sorry for everything they said to you," he said quietly.  
  
Veronica looked away, feeling her eyes fill with tears.  
  
 _Don't show him how much their words stung._  
  
"They can be so s-stupid, the lot of them," John said quickly, as he moved closer to her. "But p-please don't listen to a word they say."  
  
Veronica bit hard on her lip, willing herself not to cry.  
  
John very slowly reached out and brushed Veronica's hair away from her face, just as a tear rolled down her cheek.  
  
"Thank you for pulling me out of the r-road last night," Veronica said quickly, as she got to her feet, unable to meet his eyes. And then she dove back into the crowd as she wiped her eyes dry.  
  
\---  
  
The following Friday night, Veronica felt her heart sink as the mother of the children she nannied handed her the telephone, announcing that it was for her. And her heart sank even further into the pit of her stomach when the friend who was supposed to give her a ride home told her that, unfortunately, something had come up.  
  
After the entire ordeal at the crosswalk, Veronica had shoved aside her stubborn pride and asked for a ride, but now it appeared she would be walking anyway.  
  
Veronica expected to step out into the cold night air and be met with nothing but snow and emptiness and silence. And she was very surprised - shocked even - when she found John Deacon standing at the bottom of the steps instead.  
  
When he saw her, he shoved his hands in his jacket pockets and swallowed hard.   
  
Veronica descended the steps and stared at him curiously.  
  
"I t-thought that..." John hesitated, before plowing on, "I mean, if y-you wouldn't mind a bit of company and if there's nobody else bringing you home, if..."  
  
Veronica blinked at him as he tried to talk himself out of a nervous fit.

"Perhaps I could walk you home?" John finished quietly.  
  
Veronica opened her mouth and closed it, unable to fathom why he would want to.  
  
Not encouraged by her silence, John dropped his gaze to the sidewalk. "In case y-you need assistance crossing any streets and I..."  
  
And realizing that what he had just said could be perceived as insulting, he winced and dropped his face into his hand.  
  
Veronica smiled as she walked around him. "What will your friends think?"  
  
"I don't care what they think," John said, as he recovered and fell into step beside her. "I care what _you_ think."  
  
Silence fell over the sidewalk. Veronica listened to their footsteps crunching through hard snow and salt and dirt.  
  
"I wouldn't mind some company," Veronica finally said. And she meant it. She had a feeling that, with John by her side, his friends wouldn't give her quite so much hell as usual.  
  
John smiled at her.  
  
They walked in companionable silence, until Veronica felt her chest would nearly burst with the need to tell him...  
  
"I want you to know that..." Veronica took a deep breath, before forcing herself to go on. "...that I'm not who they think I am."  
  
"I know," John said simply.  
  
Veronica looked over at him in surprise. "You do?"  
  
"W-when I met you I knew...that you were so much more than that," John said in a soft voice, before blushing furiously.  
  
"Well, thank you for that," Veronica said gratefully.  
  
By the time they reached Veronica's street, Veronica had learned that John had a sister named Julia, had recently obtained a First Class Honours degree in Electronics, and was a bass guitarist in a rock band he had joined in March of that year.  
  
And as she bid John goodnight and watched him walk away, she realized she had only told him that she worked as a nanny. She hadn't been able to give him any further information about herself because, deep down, she felt there was no reason to.  
  
After all, she thought as she let herself into the house, he would really gain nothing by being her friend and she couldn't ever be anything more to him.  
  
The sound of quiet sobs led Veronica to the kitchen, where she saw her mother was crying at the table, with her father gently patting her on the back and consulting a telephone book that Veronica knew was filled with the telephone numbers of relatives. They both looked up as Veronica stood in the doorway.  
  
And faced with the scene in front of her while a feeling of dread grew in the pit of her stomach, Veronica could only say in a flat voice...  
  
"Who died?"  
  
\---  
  
Veronica sat in the front pew of the church and watched as, one by one, people approached the coffin at the altar to pay their final respects to her grandmother. Her mother was crying, and other people were crying, but Veronica sat with a face of stone.  
  
Because it was the first funeral she had ever had to attend, and the first major loss she had ever had to process, and she had no idea how she should be reacting.   
  
And because it was _Christmas Eve_ and they should have been celebrating, but instead, Veronica had adorned her blackest dress, and the heels she only ever wore on special occasions, and was sitting on a hard, uncomfortable bench with glassy eyes, because how dare her grandmother die right before Christmas!  
  
 _How dare she leave me here alone, when I still need her so much..._  
  
The very last straw was seeing Archibald Reginald in his funeral finery, staring at her with a look of sympathy and slowly approaching with opening arms, and feeling alarmed, Veronica got to her feet and slipped down the aisle.  
  
Away from her grandmother's dead body, away from Archibald's crushing sympathy, away from the neverending line of mourners. By the time she reached the double doors, she was running.  
  
Closing the heavy doors firmly behind her, Veronica stood on the front steps of the church alone and hugged herself against the cold. A light snow was falling, and she felt the snowflakes land on her cheeks, only to melt and mingle with her tears.  
  
Turning away from the doors, Veronica froze when she saw a figure at the bottom of the steps. She was about to go back into the church, not wanting to be forced to confront yet another mourner, when the figure hesitantly lifted his arms to her.  
  
Squinting through the snow and the darkness, Veronica descended one step, and then another, the clicking sound of her heels echoing off the ancient stone. Although she desperately wanted to be alone, she didn't feel invaded, like she did whenever Archibald was near. Rather, she was drawn to this person...  
  
One more step, and then another, and...  
  
It was John. John was standing in the snow, at the bottom of the stairs. And though he wore a look of uncertainty, his eyes were concerned and his arms were open.  
  
And without even stopping to consult the rational part of her brain, Veronica ran the rest of the way down the steps and threw herself into those arms.  
  
John caught her, feeling his heart nearly explode with relief at not being rejected. But his relief immediately turned to sadness when he heard...  
  
Sobs. Veronica was crying. But she was crying on _his_ shoulder.  
  
John hadn't expected this. When he had come across the obituary in the paper, he carefully memorized the date, time, and place of the services and though he didn't have the faintest idea of how he should act, or what he should say, he found himself tentatively approaching the old church at the appointed time.  
  
And then she had appeared before him, looking so beautiful in her mourning dress, her hair cascading down her back, tears streaming down her face...  
  
He hadn't been able to help himself then. He had opened his arms, hoping she'd understand.  
  
Raising his eyes, John saw a figure passing by the stained glass windows of the church, before stopping at one window in particular, and he knew they were being watched.  
  
He held her tighter and though he was holding his breath, his eyes defied whoever was at the window to try to take her away from him.  
  
Very slowly, they disappeared.  
  
The minutes ticked by, though it seemed to both Veronica and John like no time had passed at all, and when Veronica began to shiver in the cold December air, John walked her up the stairs to the church door, while keeping a firm arm around her.  
  
"T-thank you," Veronica whispered, as she faced him and used her sleeves to wipe the remaining tears from her face.  
  
The corners of John's mouth lifted into a small, sweet smile and reluctantly taking his arm away from her, he whispered back, "Happy Christmas, Veronica."  
  
"Happy Christmas, John." And with that being said, Veronica slipped back into the church, feeling fully prepared to face the funeral, the mourners, and even Archibald Reginald.


	2. Chapter 2

_You got a nice white dress and a party on your confirmation_  
 _You got a brand new soul_  
 _Mmm, and a cross of gold  
_  
 **January 1972**  
  
Veronica had vowed to never set foot in a disco again, yet two weeks after Christmas Eve, that's exactly where she found herself. Except, she was having an extraordinary difficult time even dipping one toe into the room.  
  
For the third time that night, she opened the door of the disco, before losing her nerve yet again and turning away.  
  
It was honestly the last place she wanted to be on a Friday night, especially when the chance of running into John's friends was so high, but she needed to find John and this was the only place she knew to look for him.  
  
Exactly a fortnight had passed since The Incident, as Veronica was calling it. Crying on John's shoulder had given Veronica the courage to face the funeral that night and the onslaught of grief that came after, and every time she thought of it, she felt a peculiar warm feeling spreading through her chest...  
  
...until one week had gone by, and then that warmth turned to mortification.  
  
Because what had she been thinking? She barely knew him; they weren't even technically friends and yet she had thrown herself at him in a fit of despair.  
  
 _Pathetic, Veronica.  
_  
She opened the door for the fourth time and allowed her anxiety to finally propel her inside She immediately tensed up, expecting every head in the establishment to turn her way, and was extremely relieved when no one paid her any attention. She had made every effort to fit in with the crowd and dressed in her jeans, old sneakers, and a black jacket, she did not stick out.  
  
Veronica found John almost immediately and her heart rose when she saw his friends were nowhere in sight. But just as quickly, her heart sank when she saw he was sitting at the bar by himself, staring into his drink.  
  
Very slowly, Veronica slipped onto the empty bar stool beside him.  
  
"What'll you 'ave?" The bartender asked her.  
  
Veronica nodded towards John's drink. "Whatever he's having, please."  
  
As the bartender disappeared, she glanced tentatively over at John, who was staring at her in shock.  
  
"Veronica?"  
  
"Hi John," Veronica said softly as she shrugged off her jacket to reveal a plain white t-shirt.  
  
John looked around, obviously confused, before letting his gaze settle on her once more. "I didn't...I didn't know you liked discos."  
  
"I don't," she said simply, as she self-consciously tucked her necklace into her shirt, in order to hide the gold cross she always wore. "I came to see you."  
  
"Me?" John repeated.  
  
"I'm sorry about Christmas Eve," she said, leaning close to him so he could hear her clearly. "I was too forward with you and..."  
  
The bartender placed the drink in front of her.  
  
"...and to apologize, I'm buying you a drink," Veronica finished as picked up the glass and placed it in front of him.  
  
John stared at it, before pushing it back towards her and shaking his head. "You have nothing to apologize for."  
  
"Well, then consider it the drink I owe you from the night I spilled yours," Veronica said as she slid the glass back to him.  
  
"I should have been watching where I was going," John protested, as he returned the glass to her.  
  
The bartender raised his eyebrow as he watched the glass go back and forth, back and forth. Veronica reached into her pocket and paid him.  
  
"Wait," John said quickly, before he could walk away, and turned to Veronica. "I'm going to buy you a drink, then."  
  
"I'll have a water please," Veronica said to the bewildered bartender.  
  
John looked crestfallen. "I can't buy you a water. It's already free."  
  
Veronica aimed a gentle smile his way. "I don't drink." And with that being said, she took John's hand and firmly wrapped his fingers around the glass.  
  
John hesitated, before accepting the drink and thanking her very quietly.  
  
"Where are your friends?" Veronica asked curiously.  
  
John looked back down into his glass. "We had a m-minor disagreement."  
  
It suddenly made sense why Veronica had found John alone and why he had seemed so forlorn.  
  
"You did?"   
  
John nodded, still studying his alcoholic beverage carefully. "Over you."  
  
Veronica's eyes widened and she almost spit out her free water.   
  
"They were wondering why they haven't seen you these past few Fridays," John explained.   
  
Veronica slowly nodded. The children she nannied had gone on vacation with their parents and she hadn't had any reason to walk past the disco in the past two weeks.  
  
"And they were being unkind so I...I told them to sod off," John finished wearily.   
  
Veronica felt her heart ache as she realized he was by himself on a Friday night because he had defended her honor.  
  
"John?"  
  
John looked up and gave her his full attention.  
  
"Thank you," she whispered and smiled.  
  
His lips lifted into the smallest of smiles.  
  
Veronica remained at the bar with John for the next hour, until she glanced at the clock on the wall and announced that she really should go. And when John offered to walk her home, she accepted gratefully.  
  
They walked slow, without purpose, as they continued their conversation from the bar, and when they arrived at Veronica's house, she thanked him again, before turning away.  
  
"Veronica?"  
  
Veronica looked back at him.  
  
"You may be sorry about Christmas Eve," John said in a quiet voice, "but I'm not."   
  
The corner of his mouth lifted in a shy smile and as the color began to creep into his cheeks, he quickly turned and walked away.  
  
As Veronica watched him go, she tried to ignore the butterflies in her stomach.  
  
\---  
  
 **February 11, 1972  
**  
As Veronica bid goodnight to the parents of the children she nannied and closed the door behind her, she looked down at the little gift bag in her hand and smiled.   
  
The children really were so thoughtful to remember her and it comforted her to know that perhaps she really was on the right path, perhaps she was meant to work with children, and...  
  
Absentmindedly descending the stairs, Veronica felt her heart shoot into her throat as she slipped and lost her balance.  
  
In a flash, a hand grasped her arm, steadying her. Veronica looked up into the twinkling eyes of John Deacon.  
  
"Careful," he whispered.  
  
Veronica allowed him to help her fully down the icy steps. "Thank you," she said, a tad breathlessly.  
  
John's gaze traveled down to the festive bag in her hands and he raised his eyebrows.  
  
"A birthday gift from the children," Veronica clarified, as they began to walk down the snow-dusted street.  
  
"It's your birthday?" John asked with interest.  
  
Veronica sighed. "As much as I like to tell myself it's not...yes, today is my birthday."  
  
John frowned. "Aren't birthdays supposed to be happy?"  
  
Veronica looked over at him and offered a sad smile. "They used to be. Now they're really just an opportunity for my parents to remind me that I'm not married and that I'm on my way to becoming an old spinster."  
  
"But s-surely you're not that old?" John protested. "You don't look over twenty."  
  
"As of today, I'm twenty-two."  
  
John looked surprised.  
  
" _You_ are the one who doesn't look over twenty," Veronica teased lightly.  
  
"I'm one year over," John confirmed.  
  
 _So he's younger than I am_ , Veronica thought to herself curiously, before reminding herself sternly that it didn't matter.  
  
As they approached a tiny bakery, John asked her quietly, "Would it be all right if I bought you a coffee? In honor of your birthday?"  
  
Veronica felt her stomach somersault. She wasn't used to boys doing nice things for her.  
  
John blushed. "S-since you don't drink, I figured coffee is the next best thing..."  
  
Veronica pushed her inhibitions away. "I'd like that."  
  
John smiled and pushed open the door to the counter-service only bakery. He asked her to wait in a corner and went up to order.  
  
As she waited, Veronica reached into her jacket and nervously fingered the gold cross around her neck, while reminding herself to show him how grateful she was, rather than how afraid she felt.  
  
 _It's a harmless little coffee, Veronica!_  
  
When John returned, Veronica gave him the brightest smile she could muster and thanked him sincerely as she took the cup from him. As they resumed their walk to her home, she relished the feeling of the warmth creeping into her hands.  
  
At the bottom of her front steps, John slipped a small box into her hand.  
  
"I hope you find at least a little bit of joy in this birthday," he said quietly to her, before backing away.  
  
 _Remember, Veronica. You're grateful._  
  
Before he could get too far away and before she could change her mind, she threw her arms around him.  
  
"Thank you," she whispered, unable to ignore how his smile lit up his entire face.  
  
As he walked away, shoving his hands bashfully into his jacket pockets, she squirmed uncomfortably as she acknowledged the strange feeling in her chest.  
  
If she didn't know any better, she would have thought she was having a heart attack, but pressing a hand to her chest, she realized her heart was just beating extremely fast, which could only mean...  
  
 _No_. _Absolutely not._  
  
She reminded herself that John could never be anything significant to her. Her purpose in life was to marry a nice, Catholic boy and raise a large Catholic family, all while pursuing a Catholic career.  
  
Which was all very delayed at the moment, and her parents were overdue to remind her of that.  
  
But she could at least be John's friend.  
  
Veronica shivered against the February chill in the air as she slowly opened the box John had given her. Inside, amidst a small fluff of tissue paper, was a tiny cupcake with chocolate frosting, adorned with small snowflake-shaped sprinkles.  
  
A tear slipped down Veronica's cheek, landing in the box and dampening the tissue paper, but she was smiling.  
  
She allowed herself to let out the tiniest sob of joy, before turning back to her house just in time to see the parlor curtains fluttering closed and the lamp being extinguished. As she ascended the front steps, she hoped her parents hadn't seen John.  
  
But oh, they had.  
  
At breakfast the next morning, Veronica's father cleared his throat. "So Veronica..."  
  
Veronica looked up. "Yes, Dad?"  
  
"I see a boy walked you home last night," he said casually, as he opened his newspaper and peered at her over his spectacles.  
  
"A boy?" Veronica's mother chimed in, before adding hopefully, "Was it Archibald?"  
  
Veronica carefully buttered her toast. "Oh, no, Mum. That was John Deacon."  
  
"John Deacon?" Mr. Tetzlaff repeated.  
  
"Is he Catholic?" Mrs. Tetzlaff asked.  
  
"N-no," Veronica replied. "At least, I don't think so. He's just a friend."  
  
Mr. Tetzlaff grunted. "Good."  
  
"Archie is so fond of you, Veronica," Mrs. Tetzlaff said. "Perhaps next Friday you should ask him out?"  
  
Veronica sighed as she got up from the table. "As much as I'd love that, Mum, I watch the children every Friday night."  
  
And taking her toast, she hurried out of the room before they could ask any further questions.  
  
\---  
  
 **March 1972**  
  
"If you were given the choice to meet anyone who has ever lived in history," Veronica said, "who would it be?"  
  
It was unnaturally warm for March, and she and John were sitting on a park bench on that particular Friday night, enjoying the mild weather.  
  
John folded his arms against his chest and thought about it carefully. Veronica couldn't help but smile to herself as she watched him give her silly question his serious consideration.  
  
"William Burroughs," he finally decided.  
  
"William Burroughs?" Veronica repeated, surprised. The author? She had been expecting a scientist or a musician...  
  
"Well," John said thoughtfully, "he's had quite a few experiences in his life. And I'd probably end up asking him about drugs and what kind of effects they have, so I wouldn't have to take them myself."  
  
Veronica stared at him for a moment, before turning away to hide her grin.  
  
"What?" John said nervously. "What did I say?"  
  
Veronica shook her head. "You're really something special, you know that?"  
  
John's brow furrowed. "I don't...I don't know about that."  
  
Veronica repositioned herself on the bench so that she was closer to him, and better able to look him in the eye. "John, it's the seventies. Any other person would _want_ to take drugs and experience those effects for themselves. But not you." She shook her head in wonder.  
  
John blushed and shook his head. "No, not me."  
  
A comfortable silence followed, before John's soft voice surrounded her once more.  
  
"What about you, Veronica?" John asked curiously. "Who would you like to meet from history?"  
  
Veronica looked away, into the darkness of the park. She had been hoping that John wouldn't ask because she knew her answer wouldn't be nearly as interesting as his.  
  
John observed her for a moment, before saying lightly, "It can't possibly be any worse than what I just told you."   
  
Veronica got to her feet. "It's not important anyway," she mumbled, as she buttoned up her jacket, indicating that it was time to go.  
  
But John caught her arm and pulled her back down onto the bench beside him.  
  
"Maybe not to you," he said quietly. "B-but it's important to me."  
  
Veronica stared at him. She was not used to guys like John who were so considerate and insightful and...  
  
"The person I want to meet isn't from history," Veronica said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Rather, he's from the future. And I honestly don't know if he even exists."  
  
"What do you mean by that?" John prompted her gently.  
  
"I want to meet that one special person who I'm supposed to spend forever with," Veronica said slowly. "He'll be kind and interesting and...I suppose he'll have to be Catholic so my parents will love him, too."  
  
"That's very..." John desperately searched for the right word. "...ehm, specific."  
  
"Yes," Veronica agreed, before gently pulling John to a standing position.  
  
As they walked in the direction of her street, John said softly, "Are your parents still pressuring you?"  
  
Veronica buried her hands deep into her jacket pockets and looked down at the ground. "Yes."  
  
John couldn't help but feel frustrated that he couldn't help her in any significant way and so he did the only thing he knew he could do for her.   
  
While practically holding his breath, he laced his fingers through hers and simply held her hand.  
  
Veronica looked over at him in surprise, before smiling.  
  
"So John...if you could go back to any period of time in history, where would you go?"  
  
\---  
  
 **April 1972**  
  
From that point on, John walked Veronica home from work every Friday night. And every Friday night, she learned a little bit more about him and found herself liking him even more than she did the week before.  
  
And as her fondness for him grew, her fear of his friends disappeared, so she had no problem with following him into the disco one Friday night in April, so that he could drop something off.  
  
"Queen has actually been asking my opinion on devising a new amp," John was explaining to her as they weaved through the tables. "Because of my electronics degree."  
  
"That's incredible," Veronica said, impressed. "Electronics are honestly like a foreign language to me."  
  
John smiled at that, before pulling a folded piece of paper out of his pocket. "I took some notes and drew up a diagram. I just need to give it to the band."  
  
"Deaky!" A voice called over the loud music. "Deaky, over here!"  
  
John and Veronica turned to see a young man with long blonde hair waving at them from a table in the corner.  
  
"Hello," John smiled at his bandmates, as he led Veronica to the table. "Veronica, this is Roger Taylor."  
  
Roger grinned and waved at her, just as John motioned to a very tall man sitting next to him. "And Brian May."  
  
Brian smiled kindly at her and shook her hand firmly. "Pleasure to meet you, Veronica."  
  
Veronica returned his smile and tried not to be too mesmerized by his wild curls.  
  
John turned to the remaining man, who had a fascinating, exotic look about him. "And this is..."  
  
"Freddie Mercury, darling," the man announced grandly, before grasping Veronica's fingers and planting a kiss on her hand. "Delighted, my dear."  
  
Veronica couldn't help but blush.  
  
"Can we get you anything to drink?" Brian asked politely, as Freddie suddenly disappeared into the crowd.  
  
"No, no," John said quickly, before handing him the folded piece of paper "We just stopped by to give you this."  
  
Roger opened the paper and squinted at it in the dim light, as Brian looked over his shoulder, nodded, and whispered, "Excellent."  
  
It was at that moment that a slower paced song filled the disco and Roger's nose crinkled in disgust at the slow beat, just as Freddie reappeared.  
  
"Isn't there something you'd like to ask the lovely Veronica, John?" he said casually.  
  
John's eyes widened and very slowly, almost imperceptibly, he shook his head.  
  
Veronica looked up at John, as a grin slowly spread across Roger's face.  
  
"Go on!" Freddie said enthusiastically.  
  
Veronica, completely oblivious to Freddie's devious plan, gave John her full attention.  
  
"Will you..." John took a deep breath. "Will you..."  
  
"Dance...with...me!" Roger mouthed helpfully.  
  
Brian shook his head, blinked, and took a sip of his drink.  
  
"Um," John stammered.  
  
"Freddie," Roger whispered in Freddie's ear. "Are you sure this is a good idea? He looks like he's going to cry."  
  
John sighed and tried again. "Will you d-dance..."  
  
"It'll be good for him," Freddie whispered back. "He just needs a little push, just like he needed a little push to get up on stage with us for the first time."  
  
"...with me?" John finished in a whisper.  
  
Veronica's first instinct was to run to the bathroom and hide, but she found herself whispering, "S-sure."  
  
With his cheeks burning, John turned and led her away from the table. Veronica stared at all of the couples swaying on the dance floor. They were dancing awfully close together, some of them quite sensually...she immediately tore her eyes away.  
  
When they found a free space, John turned to her. Wrapping his right arm around her waist, he placed his hand on her back, pressing her close to him, so that they were chest to chest.  
  
Veronica held her breath.  
  
Though the majority of the couples were wrapped in each other's arms, John opted for traditional, so as not to frighten her, and held her hand in his. Slowly, they began to move.  
  
From their table in the corner, Freddie sighed in contentment and rested his chin on his fist, while Roger sat next to him and shook his head suspiciously.  
  
"My God this song is old," he said. "This is five years old!"  
  
"Yes?" Brian said. "And that offends you because?"  
  
"This is a fucking disco! Why would they play this?"

"Technically, the Bee Gees are disco now, aren't they?" Brian pointed out. "So this is entirely suitable."  
  
"And besides," Freddie added. "I requested it, darling."  
  
 _"Why?"_ Roger asked.  
  
"You know our darling Deaky would never have the courage to ask that pretty friend of his to dance to something fast," Freddie said.  
  
"He didn't have the courage to ask her at all," Roger said. "We sort of forced him."  
  
John looked over at the table, an alarmed expression on his face. Freddie gave him an encouraging smile and from across the room, serenaded him with elaborate hand motions...  
  
 _In my brain_  
 _I see your face again_  
 _I know my frame of mind_  
 _You ain't got to be so blind_  
  
"I can't dance to this," Roger complained.  
  
"Oh, Roger," Brian groaned. "Give it up and get out there. Maybe dancing to a song like this would do you good."  
  
"Oh really, Brian? How?"  
  
Brian rolled his eyes, just as a petite blonde woman wandered by.  
  
"I love this song!" she said loudly to Roger. "Don't you?"  
  
Roger's frown was quickly turned upside down. "Why yes! I do!"  
  
"The poor darling doesn't know how to slow dance," Freddie said sadly to the girl. "Perhaps you could show him?"  
  
With a grin, the little blonde pulled Roger out onto the dance floor.  
  
Meanwhile, out among the crowd, Veronica tried not to drown in all of the romance she was surrounded by. She could feel John's heart beating against hers, and it was so intimate...  
  
 _Breathe, Veronica. Breathe._  
  
She had never, ever been this close to anyone. And as she rested her left hand on his shoulder, she found herself inhaling John's scent, and allowing her right fingers to melt into his, and letting her cheek brush against his soft hair, all while avoiding looking at him...or anybody else for that matter.  
  
 _You don't know what it's like_  
 _Baby you don't know what it's like_  
 _To love somebody_  
  
The song was right. She didn't know what it was like to love somebody. She didn't even know what love was. And at that moment she cursed her strict upbringing, because spinning out on the dance floor with John, she was hopelessly confused. Did friends dance like this? She wouldn't know. She had never let any of the boys in school get close enough to her.  
  
 _To love somebody_  
 _The way I love you_  
  
As the song ended and slowly transitioned into something much faster, John kept a protective hand on Veronica's back as he waved goodbye to the band and ushered her towards the door.   
  
"R-right," he said quietly. "Let's get you home."  
  
The walk home was silent, but it wasn't the comfortable, companionable silence they had so often shared before. It was an awkward silence, because both Veronica and John were still trying to process their experience from the disco and neither of them knew how to feel about it.  
  
As they finally arrived at the Tetzlaff residence, Veronica turned to bid John a quick goodbye.  
  
"Veronica, I..."   
  
Very slowly, he reached for her, his fingers hovering near her cheek.  
  
 _You what?_ A voice said in John's head.   
  
What could he honestly say to her? He wanted to tell her that he enjoyed spending time with her, that he thought she was the sweetest person he had ever met, and he wasn't sure why but his heart rate sped up whenever he saw her, and he was sorry for what had happened in the disco, sorry if he had scared her, if a lovely friendship was all they could have then he didn't want to ruin it by...  
  
John finally dropped his hand and stepped back. "I won't be able to walk you home next Friday. We have an appointment at a recording studio."  
  
Veronica nodded. "I'll just...see you around then."  
  
John tried to hide his disappointment. "See you a-around."  
  
And he watched as Veronica hurried away from him.  
  
\---  
  
As soon as Veronica closed the door behind her, she heard her name being called from the kitchen. Closing her eyes, she sighed and leaned heavily against the door, because she knew what was coming.  
  
Gathering as much mental strength as she could summon, Veronica wearily trudged to the kitchen.  
  
"Hi, Mum. Hi Dad."  
  
"Veronica, dear, we're concerned," her mother said immediately.  
  
"About what?" Veronica asked casually.  
  
"We don't think you should be spending quite so much time with that young man," her father said sternly.  
  
Veronica felt her heart sink. "Why not?"  
  
"We're afraid he's going to take advantage of you," Mrs. Tetzlaff said fretfully.  
  
Veronica's jaw dropped. John was so... _harmless.  
_  
"But he's _younger_ than I am!" she protested. "You don't have to worry!"  
  
"That doesn't mean _anything_ , Veronica!" Mr. Tetzlaff exclaimed. "Think about it! What does he really want from you?"  
  
"Is it so difficult to believe he just wants to be my friend?" Veronica asked, trying not to sound as insulted as she felt.  
  
"Yes! I didn't want to just be your mother's friend!"  
  
"He's right," Mrs. Tetzlaff confirmed. "He wanted to start a Catholic family with me."  
  
"Wow, that's romantic," Veronica muttered under her breath.  
  
"The only thing he can give you, Veronica, is a _reputation_ ," Mrs. Tetzlaff continued.  
  
"It will do neither of you any good to keep up this... _charade_ ," Mr. Tetzlaff sputtered. "You know perfectly well that you need to marry a man of the Catholic faith."  
  
Veronica swallowed the lump in her throat. "I know that. Which is why you don't need to worry. He's my friend. That's all he'll ever be."  
  
She waited as her parents gradually sighed out their relief, and then in a very small voice, she said,  
  
"Goodnight, Mum. Goodnight, Dad."  
  
And pressing a hand over her quivering lower lip, she ran up the stairs.  
  
The entire encounter reminded her that while she was allowed to fall in love, she was not allowed to fall in love with guys like John. And that wasn't fair.  
  
Shutting her bedroom door with a bit more force than was necessary, Veronica got onto her knees and rummaged under her bed until she found what she was looking for.  
  
Pulling out the small white box, she opened it and gazed down at the cupcake John had bought her for her birthday just a couple of months before. She had never been able to bring herself to eat it, because it was so beautiful and she loved to take it out now and then to gaze at it.  
  
But it didn't matter now, because she would have to find a way to distance herself from John before she got in any more trouble and before he got hurt.  
  
Tears slid down her cheeks as she wished, for the very first time in her life, that she wasn't Catholic.  
  
Lifting the tiny cupcake from the box, Veronica crammed it in her mouth, taking the first difficult step to detaching herself from John and effectively erasing the evidence that someone besides her parents cared about her.  
  
It took her forever to chew it, because it was sort of stale, and only once she felt it slide down her throat did she allow herself to crawl into her bed and cry herself to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your amazing comments and for all the kudos! :)


	3. Chapter 3

_But Veronica they didn't give you quite enough information_  
 _You didn't count on me_  
 _When you were counting on your rosary  
_  
 **June 1972**  
  
"So Deaky, how's Veronica?"  
  
John, who had been very slowly practicing the bass solo for one of Freddie's newest compositions (so called "Liar"), slowly raised his eyes and met Freddie's politely curious stare, before dropping his gaze as his fingers flashed across the strings at an alarming rate, and he played faster, and faster...  
  
...until Freddie was standing directly in front of him and John could not go on ignoring him. He sighed and let his hands fall away from the guitar.  
  
"I wouldn't know," he said quietly. "I haven't seen her since that night at the disco."  
  
"That was over a month ago," Brian said, raising his eyebrows in surprise.  
  
"But you asked her to slow dance," Roger pointed out, as if this explained absolutely everything.  
  
"It's not important," John whispered, hoping they would drop the subject.  
  
"Of course it's important!" Freddie exclaimed. "My dear, this is paramount!"  
  
Brian nodded in agreement. "If you tell us, perhaps we can help."  
  
John hugged his bass closer to his chest. "I know y-you're thinking that dance should have brought us closer together, but I think it..."   
  
John found he couldn't look at his fellow bandmates.  
  
"...I think it pulled us further apart," he finished.  
  
"But _how_?" Roger asked, as if that were impossible.  
  
John shrugged. "P-perhaps it frightened her away."  
  
"But you're not scary," Roger said reasonably.  
  
"I'm sorry, darling," Freddie said sadly. "We were only trying to help you take the first step that night."  
  
John looked up curiously. "But how did you know that I..."  
  
"It's rather obvious," Brian said with a small smile. "You talk about her all the time. And the way you looked at her..."  
  
"Like you were hungry and hadn't eaten for weeks," Roger confirmed.  
  
"Especially in the disco, darling," Freddie added. "Your eyes followed her everywhere and your hand was always an inch away from her back, should you need to whisk her away from any danger, and...should I elaborate?"  
  
"No, no, that's all right. But that night did make me realize that I have f-f..." The word stuck in John's throat.  
  
"Feelings for her?" Brian suggested.  
  
"Yes. And I shouldn't."  
  
"Nothing wrong with that!" Roger said enthusiastically. "I have all sorts of feelings for all kinds of women."  
  
"Yes," Brian sighed. "We know that."  
  
"But Veronica and I...we could never be," John said in a soft, disappointed voice. "According to her parents, she needs to be with someone...Catholic."  
  
"So do you want us to bring you to the church now or later?" Freddie asked.  
  
"I'm afraid it's not that simple," Brian said logically. "I'm sure Veronica's parents are looking for much more than a certificate of authentication."   
  
John laid his fingers on the strings of his bass and began to play once more, indicating that the conversation was over. He had already opened up more than he intended to and he didn't want to be reminded that Veronica could never be his.  
  
But as they left the studio that evening, Freddie slung a comforting arm over John's shoulder and said, "Surely there's no harm in still being her friend?"  
  
John had nodded with a dismissive smile, but he found himself thinking about Freddie's words all night. Finally, he realized Freddie was right and he decided he would go to her place of employment on the following Friday night, just like he used to, in order to rekindle their friendship.  
  
But the following Friday, Veronica wasn't there. Nor was she there the Friday after that, or the Friday after that.  
  
And John knew then that his situation was quite hopeless, because the only other contact information he had was an address where he could never show his face, lest her parents begin to ask questions.  
  
 **Late August 1972  
**  
 _Give me one year. Just one year._  
  
Veronica replayed the phrase over and over in her head as she walked to the market one Saturday afternoon. She had spoken those same words to her parents just a couple months before, in order to delay their marriage expectations.  
  
 _And what do you plan to do in a year?_ Her parents had asked her.  
  
 _I need to become independent before I can even think about marrying and raising a family of my own_ , she had replied.  
  
She had pleaded with them to give her a year to finish school, find her own place, and obtain a steady job, and in the past two months, she had managed to do all three. She graduated from the Maria Assumpta Teacher Training College, became a full time day nanny for the children she had previously nannied only on Friday nights, and found a cute little flat closer to work.  
  
But although Veronica was extremely busy, she still found time to miss John. And she'd be lying if she told anyone that she didn't think about him all the time, or get a strange stomach ache at the thought of meeting him again.  
  
Then she'd sternly tell herself that distance was a good thing for her, the best thing in fact, and besides, she was very preoccupied with all her extra nanny duties and she knew John was busy in the studio.  
  
It was a vicious cycle: a desperate longing to see him, followed by a fierce repression of all those confusing feelings.  
  
In the distance, Veronica saw John's good friend, Nigel Bullen, and she couldn't stop herself from approaching him, thinking that if Nigel offered her news about John, perhaps her mind - and her heart - would finally shut up, at least for a little while.  
  
"Veronica!" he exclaimed. "How are you?"  
  
"Very well, thank you!" Veronica smiled, trying her best to appear cheerful, although she was desperately curious. "And you?"  
  
Nigel replied that he was well, before introducing Veronica to his pretty girlfriend, Ruth. They then traded agonizing pleasantries about the weather until Veronica leaned forward and said, "Tell me, Nigel. How is John?"  
  
A shadow passed over Nigel's face and Veronica felt her heart drop.  
  
"He's...as well as can be expected," Nigel said carefully.   
  
Veronica twisted her fingers together nervously. "Is everything all right?"  
  
"Oh, everything's fine," Nigel said quickly, as he observed the alarm on her face. "This time of year is just extraordinary difficult for him and around August he starts to...withdraw a bit."  
  
Veronica waited for Nigel to elaborate, but instead, he fixed Veronica with a meaningful look and said, "I'm sure he'd love to hear from you."  
  
It took Veronica approximately twenty seconds to wrestle with her conscience right there on the streets of London, before she reached into her purse, scribbled her phone number on a piece of paper, and handed it to Nigel.  
  
 **September 1972**  
  
Veronica plastered an awkward smile on her face, before letting it slide back into a frown as she shook her head. No, that wasn't quite right.  
  
Angling her head a different way, Veronica mustered another toothy grin, before sighing in disgust. When had smiling become so _difficult?_  
  
 _Since you started practicing it, Veronica. Normal people don't do that!  
_  
At that moment, the doorbell rang, and Veronica threw one last desperate, frightening smile at her reflection, before smoothing her hair, pulling on her coat, placing her sweaty palm on the doorknob, and opening the door.  
  
Veronica was so happy to see John standing there that a _real_ smile began to spread across her face, until she noticed the intense sadness in his eyes, and she found herself biting her lip instead, unsure if she should hug him or ask what was wrong or offer him a tissue, just in case.  
  
But as their eyes met, John's expression softened and he said, "Hello."  
  
"Hi," Veronica said uncertainly, finding she could not quite move, and so they both stood there with months of unexplained absences and lost correspondences looming between them, until John cleared his throat.  
  
"I tried to find you," he whispered apologetically.  
  
Finally finding her voice and her sanity, Veronica closed the door behind her and linked an arm through his. "I think we have much to catch up on," she muttered, as she pulled him down the hall.  
  
It took twenty minutes of walking the cool streets of London for things to feel like they used to. Veronica detailed all of the big changes in her life and it became clear to John why he had been unable to locate her. In turn, John updated Veronica on the band's progress on their first album, but he did not offer any explanation on why, in Nigel's words, this was an extraordinary difficult time of year for him.   
  
But as they passed Veronica's church, John stopped abruptly and stared up at it.  
  
"Veronica, can I ask you something?" he asked very quietly.  
  
"Of course," Veronica said, as she watched his face carefully.  
  
"Are you religious?" John asked, not taking his eyes off the stained glass windows.  
  
Veronica cocked her head slightly, unsure if she understood what he was asking her.  
  
"I mean, in the way that your parents are?" John added quickly.  
  
Veronica was silent as she thought about his question, before answering, "I wouldn't say I'm strictly religious. I consider myself to be more...spiritual."  
  
John looked over at her curiously.  
  
"I believe in Him and I believe He has a purpose for me," Veronica explained as she gazed upon the church. "I find comfort in that and I find myself at peace whenever I'm in the church. There's something very calming about occasionally being able to hand your troubles to someone higher up, through prayer, even if only for a few moments."  
  
Veronica turned to John and he was slightly taken aback by the fierceness in her eyes.  
  
"I do not believe in being so religiously strict that it blocks every day life out," she continued. "I do not believe that a religion should dictate who you can marry or who you can conceive children with. I believe that love is love."  
  
John was nodding slowly, lost in thought. Veronica wanted to ask him what was wrong, but he looked slightly better than when he had appeared at her door earlier and she didn't want to ruin that delicate progress.  
  
"I also believe that there's a little cafe down the street that has really great tea," she said softly, taking his arm. "Shall I buy you a cup?"  
  
John managed a small smile and nodded. But even once the church was well behind them, Veronica witnessed John looking over his shoulder at it.  
  
Twice.  
  
\---  
  
A couple of days later, Veronica walked down the church steps with her parents after Saturday afternoon mass. It was very late in the day, and the sun was already throwing long shadows upon the sidewalks.  
  
It was very mild for September and it wasn't until she was home that she realized she had left her coat at the church. Ordinarily, Veronica would have waited until the next day to go back, but a chill was forecast for later that night, so Veronica found herself back out on the street, hurrying towards the church as the sun set.  
  
Opening the heavy door, Veronica stepped inside. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw someone sitting in one of the first few pews and not wishing to interrupt their reflection, she tiptoed very quietly to the pew she had been sitting in earlier and grabbed her coat.   
  
But before she turned, she glanced at the figure once more, because there was something familiar about that long, brown hair and that black leather jacket...  
  
Veronica's mouth dropped open. Was that _John_ sitting alone in her church?  
  
Hugging her coat to her chest, Veronica crept down the aisle, fully realizing that if it wasn't John, this would be a very embarrassing invasion of worship, but she had to know...  
  
She stopped beside the pew. "John?" she whispered in surprise.  
  
The person sitting there had his head bowed, but he looked up at hearing a voice, and Veronica found herself staring into John's tear-filled eyes and noticing how very lost he looked.  
  
He sniffed back his emotions, wiped furiously at his eyes, and got to his feet. "I shouldn't be here, I..."  
  
"No," Veronica said firmly, as she put a hand on his arm and sat him back down.   
  
John looked down at his hands.  
  
Veronica sat beside him. "You are welcome here, John. And I'm sorry for interrupting you."  
  
"I don't mind," John said to his hands.  
  
"Is this why you were asking questions a few night ago about religion?"  
  
"I was curious and I...I t-thought maybe I could find peace here, too." And this being said, John bowed his head once more, his hair hiding his face.  
  
Veronica felt her heart contract painfully at the anguish in his voice, and her desire to help him gave her the courage to gently brush his hair away from his face. Nigel's words echoed through her mind.  
  
 _This time of year is just extraordinary difficult for him and around August he starts to...withdraw a bit.  
_  
"What's wrong, John?" she asked gently.  
  
John lifted his head and stared straight ahead. "Today is the anniversary of my father's death."  
  
"John, I'm sorry," Veronica whispered.  
  
"It's been eleven years and..." John shook his head. "They tell you it'll get easier as time goes on but..."   
  
And he turned to Veronica, a tumble of agony tinged words spilling out from him.  
  
"It _never_ gets easier. Never! Every year it's the same, wishing he would fade from memory so this wouldn't h-hurt so much, and then the fear that it'll actually happen and I'll lose the only thing I have left of him, and hoping that each year will be different, but it never is and every anniversary comes and he's still _here_ , in my mind, crystal clear, but physically he remains gone and I can't - "  
  
John bit down firmly on his lower lip and squeezed his eyes shut. Veronica realized he was making a concerted effort not to cry in front of her, so she put a comforting hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Would you like me to leave you?" she asked softly.  
  
"No!" John said instantly and grabbed her hand, before letting go and saying in a quieter voice, "No."  
  
Veronica scooched closer to him until her hip was pressed against his.   
  
"He was a good man?" she asked him.  
  
John's lower lip trembled, before he looked away and whispered, "The best."  
  
Veronica put an arm around him, before resting her head on his shoulder. She felt him lean his head very gently against hers and after a few moments, one of his tears dropped off his cheek and landed on hers.  
  
She didn't move; she let his tear linger on her face for a moment, before she felt it slide down her neck and onto her chest, resting somewhere over her heart. Closing her eyes, Veronica held back her own tears and prayed on his behalf, beseeching a higher power to soak John with a heavy dose of peace.  
  
An hour later, Veronica tried to assure John that she could walk herself to her flat, that he should really just go home and take care of himself, but John was adamant.  
  
And so, they walked slowly, and Veronica listened with a heavy heart as John talked about his family and insisted that he'd never be able to bear another significant loss like that. And she hoped that, for his sake, he would never have to.  
  
At her doorstep, she looked up at him, unable to hide her concern, and asked, "Are you going to be all right?"  
  
"Y-yes," John said softly.  
  
"I know today wasn't easy but I hope you found a little bit of peace," Veronica said, before standing on her tiptoes and kissing his cheek.  
  
She hadn't been intending to do it, but it had felt right and she had let it happen. She watched as John blushed a lovely pink color and gently touched the place where her lips had been.  
  
"I did," he whispered. "Because of y-you."  
  
And after wishing her a good night, he was gone.  
  
Once inside her flat, Veronica rushed to the window and watched as he walked down the street. But she wasn't prepared to see him stop, look up at her window, and wave with that sweet smile of his.  
  
It was then that she knew two things.  
  
The first was that he would be all right, no matter what life threw at him, because he was so incredibly brave.  
  
The second was that, even though she had tried in desperation to prevent it, she had still fallen hopelessly in love with him.  
  
 **November 6, 1972**  
 **The Pheasantry Club**  
 **London, UK**  
  
Freddie took a deep, cleansing breath through his nose and closing his eyes, brought the microphone to his lips and sang in the mightiest of voices...

 _And then I saw Him in the crowd_  
 _A lot of people had gathered round Him_  
  
As Freddie continued to sing, he made a show of theatrically sweeping the entire stage with his gaze, but his real purpose was to check on John.   
  
And sure enough, John was seeing someone in the crowd and smiling softly at them, only it wasn't the Lord Jesus.  
  
Freddie followed John's gaze into the audience and saw Veronica sitting at a table with Nigel Bullen and his girlfriend, Ruth. Veronica was resting her chin in her hand and smiling and Freddie mentally praised John for mustering the courage to invite her to this, her first Queen show.  
  
"Should we tell Veronica that you wrote this?" Roger yelled over the music to John, who had climbed onto the drum platform. "Would that earn you points with her parents?"  
  
John smiled. "It's Freddie's song."  
  
"I would relinquish the rights of it for you, darling!" Freddie shouted as he twirled past the drum platform.  
  
 _Felt the palm of a hand touch his head_  
 _Go now, go now, you're a new man instead_  
  
Feeling sort of like a new man himself, John jumped off the drum platform and wandered to the front of the stage, his fingers traveling up and down the neck of his bass.   
  
Brian inconspicuously strode across the stage, effortlessly working his guitar magic and making it seem like he wanted to jam with John, but his real intent was to jab his elbow into John's side and push him over to the right, before he could trip over the cord in the center of the stage.  
  
Freddie nodded his thanks to Brian as they exchanged a knowing glance. If John fell down, not only would they have a hell of a time getting him back on stage, they'd probably never get him to face Veronica again.  
  
Completely oblivious, John accepted the new direction he was pushed in, and wandered over to that side of the stage, as the song winded down and ended on that one haunting, harmonious chord.

 _All going down to see the Lord Jesus_  
 _All going d o w n...  
_  
\---  
  
As Queen left the stage, Veronica got to her feet and joined the rest of the audience in giving the band a standing ovation. Then, she quickly excused herself from the table in order to wander around the club and wait for John to appear. Her heart was fluttering with excitement and she wanted to be the first to tell him how much she had enjoyed the show.  
  
But after ten minutes, she saw that someone had beaten her to it.  
  
Veronica leaned uncertainly against the wall and watched as four beautiful girls surrounded John and Freddie, chattering animatedly to them. As John and Freddie politely smiled and nodded, Veronica thought to herself that these were likely fans who were telling them exactly what Veronica wanted to tell them.   
  
One of the girls grabbed John's hand and turned it over. Very lightly, she ran a finger down his palm and inspected his long fingers. John's smile disappeared as he stared at her.  
  
Veronica turned away, an unfamiliar feeling burning in her belly. She wasn't sure why seeing John talk to, or being touched by, another woman was bothering her so much. She only knew the girl was gorgeous, probably totally familiar with this rock and roll scene that John was entwined in, and not trapped in a religious cage.  
  
She was all the things Veronica was not. In other words, she was perfect for him.  
  
Feeling numb, Veronica returned to the table, grabbed her coat, and in a voice that was shaking, said to Nigel, "Please tell John I'm not feeling well and I went home."  
  
And then she hurried out into the night, where a light snow was falling.  
  
 _Honestly, Veronica. What were you thinking? As if he would ever be interested in somebody like you!  
_  
"Veronica!"  
  
Veronica stopped and turned, just as Ruth caught up to her.  
  
"Veronica," she said breathlessly, pressing a hand against her chest. "Veronica, what happened?"  
  
"I don't feel well," Veronica reiterated.   
  
Ruth, though she was still wheezing from the physical exertion of stopping Veronica on the street, eyed her knowingly. "Yes, but what happened to make you not feel well?"

Veronica folded her arms.  
  
"You looked like you felt fine during the show," Ruth added. "In fact, you looked like you were having an wonderful time."  
  
Veronica sighed. "I just saw a beautiful girl holding John's hand and it made me realize that I really don't belong here."  
  
"Why would you say that, Veronica?"  
  
Veronica held her arms out so that Ruth could take in her plain clothes and her bare face that never, ever held even an ounce of makeup.  
  
"Is that why you're running away?" Ruth asked. "Because you don't feel like you compare?"  
  
Veronica looked down at the ground. "Yes."  
  
"Come home with me," Ruth said suddenly. "I know just what you need."  
  
And giving Veronica a mischievous smile, she hurried off to tell Nigel that they would meet him and John at the disco in an hour or so.  
  
\---  
  
An hour later, Veronica wrapped her arms around herself as she walked down the street towards the disco, alone.  
  
Nigel had ended up drinking too much and was throwing up on Ruth's bathroom floor, and though John had called and offered to walk Veronica home, she had insisted that she would still meet him at the disco and that he didn't have to pick her up.  
  
Dressed in Ruth's knee high suede boots, a mini skirt, and a leather jacket, Veronica actually felt, for the first time, like she fit in and she was looking forward to showing John that she could have fun with him at a disco, just like any other girl.  
  
But as Veronica approached the disco and saw John's friends loitering outside, she began to have her doubts. She smoothed down her uncharacteristically straight hair (how Ruth had managed to tame her unruly curls was beyond her) and warned herself not to cry, no matter what they said, lest the makeup Ruth had painstakingly put on her face should run off and into a gutter somewhere.  
  
Summoning her strength, Veronica held her head high and walked on.  
  
One of John's friends let out a sharp whistle.  
  
"If it isn't Miss Tetzlaff, looking a little less like a virgin and more like a woman!" said the friend who had put an unwelcome arm around her the year before.  
  
Veronica shocked herself by grabbing a fistful of his shirt and put her face very close to his. "Leave me alone."  
  
Shocked, the man put his hands up. "Relax, relax."  
  
"You know, you're looking really great," the man who whistled said. "Tell me, is this all for John?"  
  
Veronica let go of the second man and stepped away, being very careful to say absolutely nothing.  
  
"Hey, you know what guys find really sexy?" A third man asked.  
  
Though she warned herself that she shouldn't engage, Veronica found herself whispering, "What?"  
  
The third man pulled out a pack of cigarettes.  
  
"I...I don't smoke," Veronica stammered.  
  
"So try it," the first man said. "Maybe you'll like it."  
  
Veronica was about to push past them, when the second man put a firm hand on her shoulder. "Do it for John, eh? I'm sure he'd find it...irresistible."  
  
And that's what this was all about, wasn't it? Veronica thought to herself. To be good enough for John, to fit into his world.  
  
Reluctantly, she took the cigarette.  
  
"All right," the third man said, as he first lit her cigarette before lighting his own. "You hold it like this, see?"  
  
Veronica mimicked the man, holding the cigarette between her forefinger and middle finger.  
  
"And then, take a nice, deep drag," the man instructed, before putting the cigarette between his lips and inhaling deeply. A look of bliss passed over his face as he blew the smoke out into the night.  
  
Ignoring the feeling in her gut that was telling her not to do this, Veronica slowly brought the cigarette to her lips.  
  
But someone plucked it out of her fingers.  
  
Turning, Veronica watched in shock as John tossed it onto the sidewalk, stomped it out with the ball of his foot, and turned a look of thunder on his friends.  
  
"What's this?"  
  
His friends exchanged nervous glances, before the second one stepped forward.  
  
"Aw come on Deaky, we was only trying to help."  
  
"Well, don't," John said in a quiet voice that was so sharp it could have cut glass. " _Ever."_

John's ex-friends recoiled and putting a protective arm around Veronica, John turned her away from them.  
  
As they walked down the sidewalk, John removed his arm from Veronica's shoulders and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets. He said nothing and Veronica was too humiliated to say anything, either. The only time she even considered opening her mouth was when she noticed that John was not going in the direction of her flat, but she opted to stay silent.  
  
She soon realized that John was taking her to his own flat when he led her up a set of unfamiliar stairs and let her into a small but comfortable living space. Taking her hand, he pulled her into the bathroom and sat her on the edge of the bathtub.  
  
Taking a wet cloth, he knelt before her and began to wipe the makeup off her face.  
  
Veronica closed her eyes, unable to look at him, as she tried not to cry out her mortification. She could only imagine what he thought of her, dressed up and acting like someone she wasn't.  
  
But eventually, a stray tear crept out from under her eyelid, and dropped into John's palm. The very palm that another woman had been caressing earlier that night.  
  
John sat back on his heels and quietly said her name. Veronica was forced to open her eyes...  
  
...and was surprised to see that John's eyes were full of concern, with a hint of compassion.  
  
"Veronica, what's going on?"  
  
Veronica nervously looked away. "What makes you think there's something going on?"  
  
John moved closer to her. "You left the club so s-suddenly tonight after the show and then you wouldn't let me walk you h-home."  
  
Veronica slowly looked up into those beautiful, gray eyes.  
  
"And then I find you wearing makeup, dressed like this, and trying cigarettes," John continued, before softening his voice. "This isn't you."  
  
"I just wanted you to..." Veronica trailed off, embarrassed, realizing that she couldn't tell him the truth without admitting how much she liked him.   
  
John waited patiently for her to go on.  
  
"...like me," she finished in a humiliated whisper.  
  
"Veronica, I lov-" John caught himself just in time and went on quickly, "like you just the way you are. Why can't you see that?"  
  
"Because I don't feel like I'm enough."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Because I'm so...plain and pure. Those girls at the club..."  
  
John rose onto his knees and took her hands. "Veronica, we all love our fans but you..."  
  
Veronica felt her heart speed up as John inched closer, and closer to her.  
  
"You are special because you're different," he said quietly, his cheeks flushing red. "And I like that about you."  
  
"You do?" Veronica whispered.  
  
"Y-yes," John said, before turning away, re-wetting and wringing out the cloth, and returning to her. "Close your eyes please."  
  
Veronica did as she was told and felt John applying the cloth to her eyelids as he tried to wipe away the plethora of green eye shadow and mascara that caked her lids and lashes.  
  
But what she didn't know was that John was slowly leaning closer to her, trying to work up the nerve to do something he had wanted to do for a very, very long time. He didn't think he would have even considered it, if Veronica hadn't just shown him that she felt something for him. Why else would she have tried to transform into somebody she wasn't?  
  
Veronica felt a warm, sweet breath on her cheek and opened her eyes just as John very lightly brushed his lips against hers.   
  
John kept his face close to hers, gauging her reaction.  
  
A tear of happiness traveled slowly down Veronica's cheek, leaving a trail of black mascara in it's wake, as she slowly smiled.  
  
Letting out a breath of relief, John tossed the cloth into the bathtub and pulled her gently into his arms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to thank you all once again for reading. I appreciate it so much and I hope you all have a very Merry Christmas (and/or a Happy Holiday)!


	4. Chapter 4

_Come out Veronica, don't let 'em wait_  
 _You Catholic girls start much too late_  
 _Aw but sooner or later it comes down to faith_  
 _I might as well be the one_  
  
 **Late November 1972**  
  
In the ensuing weeks after the cigarette incident, John and Veronica weathered their newly found feelings for each other with longer hugs, shy pecks on the cheek, and very, _very_ gentle kisses that did not last long enough to be anything but friendly. But that all changed right around the time that November was drawing to a close.  
  
On one particularly chilly evening, John and Veronica found themselves curled up on the sofa in Veronica's flat, the only light coming from the television, where a holiday movie was playing and being largely ignored as Veronica pursued one of her new favorite pastimes: quizzing John.  
  
"Favorite food?" Veronica asked as she delicately balanced a bowl of popcorn on her knee.  
  
"Cheese on toast," John said instantly.  
  
"Favorite color?"  
  
"Black," John replied.  
  
"Favorite film?"  
  
John thought about it for a moment, before answering, " _A Clockwork Orange._ "  
  
Veronica had taken a short break from interrogating John, in order to think of more questions - because she simply loved getting to know him - when she sensed John leaning closer to her.  
  
It wasn't difficult for him to do because he was already sitting close by her side; even though they had the entire sofa to spread out on, they had still ended up snuggled tightly together on one end.   
  
Veronica held her breath as she felt John press his lips against hers.  
  
But it wasn't like the quick, gentle kisses she was accustomed to. He lingered there and she felt the firm pressure of his lips against hers, so much more pronounced than ever before. And then he slowly pulled away.  
  
Veronica bit her lip and looked down at the bowl of popcorn so John wouldn't see her red cheeks.  
  
"I'm s-sorry," John stammered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I don't know what I was thinking..."  
  
"No," Veronica said immediately, looking up. "Don't be sorry. _I'm_ the one who should be sorry."  
  
John's brow furrowed in confusion. "But why?" he asked curiously.  
  
"Because I'm not very good at it," Veronica said quietly.   
  
John cocked his head slightly, imploring her with his eyes to please elaborate.  
  
"At kissing," Veronica explained, looking away. "I honestly pity the man who ends up with me as a wife."  
  
A heavy silence slowly grew between them and not able to withstand the tension, Veronica timidly looked up and saw John staring straight ahead, at the television.  
  
"If he's as Catholic as your parents want him to be, then I'm sure he won't know how to kiss you anyway," he said finally.  
  
He then looked over at Veronica, to offer a smile to go along with his sarcastic remark, but his eyes were terribly sad.  
  
"Oh John," Veronica whispered, feeling an ache deep in the pit of her stomach because it was still painfully obvious to both of them that this relationship they were engaging in would have to be short-lived, if Veronica was to obey her parents' wishes.  
  
But she couldn't bear to see him looking so melancholy and thought that perhaps she could distract him. Taking his hand, she said very softly, "Perhaps you could be the one to...to show me how it's done."  
  
John stared at her.  
  
"You know," Veronica whispered. "So that I'll be prepared."  
  
John swallowed hard, before nodding his agreement, and leaned towards her once more. Veronica closed her eyes and waited nervously.  
  
First, she felt only the lightest of touches on her lips, before the pressure of John's mouth against hers returned. She mentally cheered herself on. She had already experienced this much; this was nothing new.  
  
But it _was_ entirely new when John very gently parted her lips with his, succeeding in opening her mouth but just barely, and Veronica felt her top lip tucked between both of his, forcing her to gently kiss his lower lip. He tasted of salt, butter, and something infinitely sweeter.  
  
John was extraordinary gentle with her and she marveled at how he was able to guide her into a comfortable rhythm, using only his mouth. He kissed her very softly yet deeper than ever before and Veronica was struck by a frightening realization.  
  
She didn't want him to stop.  
  
But eventually, he sat back, leaving Veronica completely dumbfounded as she cradled the popcorn bowl against her chest.  
  
"When the time comes, you'll be fine," John whispered wistfully, his eyes brimming with regret.  
  
Once more, Veronica cursed her Catholic faith as she set aside the bowl and curled up against John's side. As she felt him wrap his arms around her shoulders, she reminded herself that what she and John were currently doing with each other could never be serious.  
  
In fact, it was dangerous for them to be getting this close at all, but the stark fact was that they needed an outlet in which they could express their feelings for each other, before those same feelings built up inside them and exploded. Whatever was growing between them was too strong to ignore.  
  
And though Veronica felt a sense of guilt deep in her heart, she told herself she was doing nothing wrong. She wasn't engaging in risque behavior; she was simply expressing her love for her closest friend, and he was doing the same.  
  
Of course, it didn't work that way. But when she eventually looked back at that night on the sofa, the Night of the First Real Kiss, she would wonder, had she just been terribly naive at the time? Or, deep down, had she known all along what she was doing and was just trying to justify her actions?  
  
She was certain of only one thing that night. John had just effectively built a roaring fire in her chest and she wasn't sure she would ever be able to extinguish it.  
  
\---  
  
 **Christmas Day 1972, 12:13 A.M.**  
  
Veronica took a deep breath and allowed her voice to rise with the others.

_Oh holy night, the stars are brightly shining_

She blinked sleepily as she glanced down at her songbook. She knew the words by heart, but she was so _weary_ between working extra hours and the month-long preparations for the holidays and squeezing in late nights with John, just to be able to see him, if only for a little while...  
  
...and though Christmas was her favorite time of year and she was grateful to have a warm, beautiful church to celebrate in, she desperately wished John were with her. She didn't know if she'd even get a chance to see him before the holiday was over.  
  
This was one of the reasons why, standing up at the altar with the rest of the choir, she couldn't bring herself to smile quite as brightly as the rest of them. Her gaze rested on Archibald Reginald, who was enthusiastically conducting them from the bottom of the stairs as he beamed up at her.  
  
And beaming at Archibald, from the first few pews, were her parents and she could practically _feel_ them willing him to propose to her.  
  
Veronica looked straight ahead at the church doors and tried to replace her sense of disgust with a sense of peace and light. And it was then that one of the doors opened a crack and a tall, thin young man slipped inside, along with a gust of snow, and unobtrusively sat in the very back pew.  
  
 _Fall on your knees_  
 _Oh hear the angel voices_  
  
Veronica tilted her head as she sang and allowed her gaze to curiously roam over the man as realization slowly dawned on her. 

It was John.

_Oh night divine_

John, sitting in _her_ church early on Christmas morning, in a gray suit with his hair carefully brushed. He spotted her up at the altar and his face broke into a beautiful smile.  
  
Veronica's heart swelled and she allowed herself to finally smile _for real_ as she looked over Archibald's head and sang only to John, not aware that her parents thought that she was smiling at Archibald and hoping against all hope that their daughter would finally decide to settle down.  
  
But in fact, Veronica's thoughts were far from her impending future. Her mind had turned back time, to Christmas Eve 1971, when she had burst through those same church doors as she ran away from a funeral and straight into John Deacon's arms.  
  
How far they had come in only a year.  
  
And even after she took her seat beside her parents, her fingers still trembled with excitement knowing that John was there, behind her somewhere. And though he had to leave as soon as the service was over, lest her parents see him, it didn't matter because he had been there.   
  
He had made an effort to be part of her world. And Veronica tucked that incredible fact into her pocket and carried it closely with her for the rest of the day.  
  
\---  
  
 **New Year's Eve 1972**  
  
As the tiny clock in the living room chimed eleven thirty, Veronica turned off her lamp, wrapped her hands around her hot mug of tea, and made her way to her bedroom, intending to spend the last thirty minutes of 1972 reflecting on all she had gained in the last year and praying that 1973 would be merciful to her.  
  
She had just sunk onto her soft mattress when there was a knock on the front door of her flat.  
  
Placing her mug on the bedside table, Veronica frowned and fought back all those unreasonable, frightening scenarios that often entered her mind whenever somebody knocked on her door unannounced. Which wasn't often.  
  
Opening the door a crack, Veronica peeked out, before her eyes widened in surprise and she threw the door open fully.  
  
"John?"  
  
"Hello," John said with a small smile, before he asked nervously, "Did I wake you?"  
  
"No, no," Veronica assured him, as she wrapped her arms around her chest to hide the fact that she was not quite decent, having tossed her bra into the corner of her bedroom earlier in the day. "I was awake."  
  
John sighed in relief.  
  
"I thought you were at the disco with the band?" Veronica asked, as she welcomed him inside the flat and shut the door. She had encouraged John to spend New Year's Eve with his friends, convinced he would have more fun at the disco than sitting on her sofa, watching the clock.  
  
"I was," John confirmed, "but I..."  
  
Veronica stared at him in shock as he got down on one knee and pulled out a small box, about the size of her hand, from behind his back.  
  
"I need to tell you something," John finished in a quiet voice.  
  
Veronica swallowed hard, imploring her heart to get out of her throat and go back down to her chest, where it belonged.  
  
John took a deep breath and forced himself to look directly at Veronica. "I enjoy spending time with you and I think about you...nearly all the time and I...I...I know your parents already have plans for you and I'm not even remotely Catholic b-but..."  
  
Veronica watched with wide eyes as he blushed furiously and tried to bravely navigate his way out of the maze of nervous anxiety he was trapped in.  
  
"...s-since this is your year of i-independence, perhaps...erm...perhaps you could give m-me a chance and we could see...see where this goes?"  
  
And he held the little white box up to her.  
  
Veronica took it from him, lifted the lid, and found herself staring at a tiny vanilla cupcake with midnight blue icing.  
  
"I thought this might help y-you decide," John said bashfully, "in case you're indecisive about...me." And he bowed his head.  
  
Veronica admired the perfect little cupcake as tears of joy filled her eyes and she remembered the first cupcake John had given her, the one she had been forced to shove down her throat back in April when she had tried to remove John from her life.  
  
Although the fact that John hadn't thought he would be enough to sway her made her sad, it was adorable that he thought a cupcake might do the trick...  
  
She lowered herself to the floor and knelt very close to him. "John, we could get in trouble for this."  
  
John looked up at her. "I don't c-care."  
  
"I don't just mean my parents," Veronica said carefully. "What if, when my year of freedom ends, I can't...bring myself to let go? Of you?"  
  
"Then so be it," John said defiantly.  
  
"It'll hurt," Veronica said softly.  
  
"It can't possibly hurt more than this," John answered bluntly.  
  
"More than what?" Veronica pressed him gently.  
  
"Seeing you every week and not being able to tell you how I really feel, or touch you, or..." He leaned closer, his lips inches away from hers.  
  
Veronica leaned her forehead against his as her mind raged and mercilessly reminded her heart that she had promised her parents that in time, she'd finally marry. But her heart fought back and asked, was it really so terrible to want to be loved? Truly, genuinely, passionately loved for who she was? She wasn't sure what she was going to get if she married the Catholic prince her parents were always thinking about, but she was certain it wouldn't be love.  
  
Outside, 1973 arrived loud and clear with the chiming of the clock tower in the square, indicating it was officially twelve o'clock.  
  
"Yes," Veronica said.  
  
"What?" John whispered, unsure if he had heard her correctly.  
  
Veronica touched John's cheek and smiled. "Yes! Let's see where this goes."  
  
John's breath caught in his throat. "Veronica, truly?"  
  
"Truly."  
  
Relief pushed John back onto his arse and sitting cross legged upon the floor, he pulled Veronica onto his lap as he stared at her in awe.  
  
And though Veronica knew she wasn't quite free of her parents' marriage bonds, she cast aside all of her inhibitions, put her arms around John's neck, and kissed him swiftly.  
  
As their lips slowly parted, John looked up at her, his eyes shining. "It was the cupcake, wasn't it?"  
  
Veronica pretended to think about it. "Well..."  
  
In revenge, John leaned his back against the wall and lifted his knees, sending Veronica sliding down his thighs and onto his belly. She let out an alarmed cry, before collapsing against his chest with a laugh.  
  
John grinned as he cradled her head against his heart.  
  
" _No_ ," Veronica said softly. "It wasn't the cupcake. It was _you_."  
  
John closed his eyes and held her closer. "Thank you," he whispered.  
  
Lying in John's arms on the floor of her entryway, Veronica couldn't possibly have foreseen all the complications that would result from her decision but that night, it didn't matter. Later, after she had bid John a goodnight and a happy new year, she fell to her knees in her bedroom and placed the box with her new cupcake safely under her bed.  
  
\---  
  
 **Mid-January 1973**  
  
Veronica's mouth dropped open as she peered around the curtain and squinted through the night at the swirling snow. The howling of the wind pierced her ears and made her shiver as she observed the mountain of snow below her.  
  
"How's it look?" John asked curiously, as he zipped up his jacket.  
  
"Not safe," Veronica said firmly, as she turned away from the window. "There must be close to ten feet of snow."  
  
John raised his eyebrows in surprise, before protesting, "But I've only been here..."  
  
"...all day," Veronica finished for him with a small smile.  
  
"I'm sure it's perfectly safe outside," John assured her.  
  
Veronica's smile disappeared as she shook her head. "John, it's a blizzard. Why don't you stay?"  
  
John stared at her, before shaking his head adamantly. "Roger once drove me through a snowstorm in his car. I survived that, so I think I can survive walking home."   
  
The wind picked up once more, rattling the window panes.  
  
Veronica took John's hand. "Please?" she pleaded. "Just until the storm winds down and they clear the roads."  
  
"This is _your_ space, Veronica," John said gently. "I can't impose."  
  
"But I want you to impose," Veronica insisted, as she unzipped his jacket, before folding her arms against her chest.  
  
After a tiny bit more coaxing, John agreed to stay and settled himself on the sofa. Veronica hovered uncertainly in the doorway of her bedroom, wanting desperately to invite him in but not knowing how to do so without sounding suggestive.  
  
John looked up and offered her a sweet smile. "You should get some sleep, Veronica. I'll be fine here."  
  
Veronica disappeared, before returning with two blankets and two pillows.  
  
John glanced at her suspiciously.  
  
"I'm staying with you," Veronica explained, as placed a blanket and pillow on his lap, before beginning to construct a little nest for herself on the floor.  
  
"Veronica, you don't...you don't have to do that," John said quietly.  
  
"But I don't want you to be alone," Veronica said as she wrapped herself in her blanket.  
  
"I'll be all right," John persisted. "You should go to your bed."  
  
"Too late," Veronica said. "I'm already comfortable."  
  
With a sigh, John crouched down, scooped Veronica into his arms, and carried her to her bedroom.  
  
"John!" she protested as she kicked her legs.  
  
John lay her gently on the bed as he fought a smile. "Go to sleep," he whispered, before planting a kiss on her cheek and hurrying from the room.  
  
Veronica stayed curled in her bed for a few minutes, allowing John enough time to get himself settled, before pushing her defeat aside. Kicking off her blanket, she silently opened the door and got onto her hands and knees.  
  
Peeking around the door frame, she could just barely make out John's form on the sofa, but she was relatively sure he had his back to her. Feeling like a little child, she crawled very slowly and very quietly to the sofa.  
  
She smiled as she heard him sigh and resting her head on the pillow she had left behind, she curled up on the floor and closed her eyes. She had assumed the sigh had been something sweet he had done in his sleep, until...  
  
...she felt a long finger poke her in the ribs. Veronica gasped as her eyes flew open and she looked up into John's amused face.  
  
He observed her as he propped himself up on an elbow. "Did you honestly think I didn't see you come out of your room?"  
  
"Did you honestly think I didn't see that poke coming?" Veronica asked, trying to be nonchalant.  
  
John laughed and Veronica was quite sure it was the sweetest sound she had ever heard.  
  
"Do you honestly think I believe that?" he asked her, as he sat up, helped Veronica to her feet, and pulled her onto his lap.  
  
"No," Veronica mumbled.  
  
John smiled softly as he reclined that end of the sofa and covered them with a blanket.  
  
"You don't need to stay out here alone," Veronica said softly. "You can come to my..." She blushed. "...to my room."  
  
"Your parents wouldn't like that," John said quietly.  
  
"They also wouldn't like that I'm sitting on your lap," Veronica pointed out.  
  
"Well, at least I can't compromise your innocence from here."  
  
"Sure you can."  
  
"But I won't," John said firmly.  
  
"John, is that what this is all about?" Veronica asked. "Maintaining my innocence?"  
  
John shifted slightly beneath her as his eyes searched hers. "Veronica, I...I want to lay beside you in your bed, but I can't..." He shook his head. "It wouldn't be right."  
  
"Are you saying you're tempted?" Veronica teased him.

..."and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us, and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil," John recited.  
  
Veronica's mouth dropped open.   
  
"Amen," John added.  
  
"How did you know that?"  
  
John shrugged shyly. "Just something I picked up."  
  
Veronica shook her head in wonder. "I wish my parents could meet you."  
  
"Do they ask hypothetical questions like you?" John asked her lightly.  
  
Veronica snorted. "No, they're more practical than that."   
  
And then her eyes lit up suddenly at the opportunity to learn something new about John. " _But_ let's say, hypothetically, you did meet them and they asked your..." Veronica thought about it for a moment. "...your favorite dream. What would you say?"  
  
"Wet."  
  
"John!" She shrieked and hit him playfully in the arm. John grinned and held her tighter against his chest.  
  
They settled into a comfortable silence, before John said gently, "You should really go back to bed."  
  
"Not without you," Veronica said sleepily, as she rested her cheek against his shoulder.  
  
"I w-won't take advantage of you," John whispered.  
  
"I didn't think you would," Veronica said, before pressing a kiss against his neck. "Goodnight, John."  
  
"Goodnight," John answered softly, before adding, "Ronnie."  
  
Veronica's eyes flew open. _Ronnie._  
  
She had never in her life had a nickname, but she loved the sound of the one John had just given her. Veronica was timid, quick to please, and devout. But _Ronnie_ could be so much more than that. Ronnie could be independent, strong, and not afraid to fall in love.  
  
Closing her eyes once more, _Ronnie_ smiled and felt very much like she had been reborn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year everyone! :)


	5. Chapter 5

_They say there's a heaven for those who will wait_  
 _Some say it's better but I say it ain't_  
 _I'd rather laugh with the sinners than cry with the saints_  
 _The sinners are much more fun_  
  
 **February 11, 1973**  
  
She had been so close. She had almost, just _barely_ made it.  
  
Ronnie, having just had dinner with her parents in honor of her birthday, let out a sigh of relief as she turned the front door knob. Her parents had gone the entire visit without mentioning husbands, which perhaps was the best birthday gift of all, and she still had approximately ten minutes to spare in order to meet John at her flat at the time they had agreed upon.  
  
She was not expecting to come face to face with Archibald, yet here he was.  
  
"Veronica!" he exclaimed, as he lunged forward and crushed her in an unwelcome hug. "Happy Birthday!" And he shoved a giant bouquet of flowers into her hands.  
  
"T-thank you," Ronnie whispered, just as her mother pinwheeled around the corner and cried out, "Archie! Oh, Archie, how sweet of you to come!"  
  
Ronnie spun around and fixed her mother with a stern expression. "Very sweet, but I can't stay."  
  
"Surely you can stay for a little while?" Mr. Tetzlaff inquired, as he appeared behind her mother.  
  
"No," Ronnie said firmly. "I told you I have plans."  
  
"With whom?" Mr. Tetzlaff asked.  
  
"A friend," Ronnie replied.  
  
"What's her name?" Mr. Tetzlaff asked casually.  
  
Ronnie felt her face burn as her father automatically assumed that her friend was a female. But of course he would say that, after he and her mother had told her that she shouldn't be carrying on with John Deacon.  
  
Grasping the bouquet of flowers in a death grip, Ronnie swept by him, took her mother's hand, and pulled her into the kitchen.  
  
As she turned to face her bewildered mother, Ronnie said in a low voice, "My year of independence is _not_ over yet!"  
  
"But it will be!" Mrs. Tetzlaff insisted. "Before you know it, Veronica, it'll be June."  
  
"You asked him to come over!" Veronica said tightly. "You and Dad planned this!"  
  
"He wanted to see you!"  
  
"This isn't _fair!"_  
  
"Veronica!" Her mother whispered in an astonished voice. "This isn't at all like you!"  
  
It wasn't like _Veronica_ , Ronnie thought bitterly to herself. But she was Ronnie now.  
  
Mrs. Tetzlaff took Ronnie by the arm and pulled her over to the doorway. "Just stay a little bit longer."  
  
Although she knew she was being impertinent, Ronnie still found herself glaring at her mother.  
  
"He brought you _flowers_ , Veronica."  
  
 _I wouldn't have stayed even if he had brought me enough money to make me rich!_ Veronica thought to herself, but bit her tongue to keep herself from saying it out loud.  
  
"Just a quick visit and then you can be on your way," Mrs. Tetzlaff said. "I'm sure your friend will understand."  
  
Feeling defeated, Ronnie allowed her mother to push her back out into the hallway.   
  
Yes, John would understand, but she knew he would still be hurt.  
  
 **An hour and a half later**  
  
John pushed back his sleeve and glanced at his watch, just as a light snow began to fall.   
  
He had waited long enough. With an anxious sigh, he picked up the long-stemmed rose he had bought for Ronnie and got to his feet. He would have to go look for her.  
  
But before he could pick up the white box from the bench, a car pulled up to the curb in front of the building that housed Ronnie's flat.  
  
The driver's door flew open and a tall, sturdy young man burst out and ran around the car to open the passenger door. He grandly offered his hand to the passenger.  
  
John's heart contracted painfully when he saw the passenger was Ronnie.  
  
She grasped the young man's hand tightly as she carefully unfolded herself from the car and stepped onto the sidewalk, while balancing a gargantuan bouquet of flowers in her other arm.  
  
"Careful!" the young man said, as he helped her step onto the sidewalk. "It's mighty slippery tonight."  
  
John watched as Ronnie smiled and thanked him, but the young man did not let go of her hand. He was staring at her with the most romantically open expression that John had ever had the displeasure to witness and it was so obvious what he wanted from her that John found his fist tightening around the stem of the rose he was holding.  
  
A wayward thorn pierced his palm, but John didn't care. He swallowed hard as the young man bent and kissed Ronnie's hand, never taking his eyes off of hers. And then he hurried back to the driver's side of his car and he was gone.  
  
Ronnie watched him go, before turning away. As she hurried to the front door of the building, she saw John waiting by the bench.  
  
The moment Ronnie spotted him, John hid the rose behind his back, suddenly feeling that it was very inadequate.  
  
"John!" Ronnie exclaimed as she threw her arms around him and buried her face in his neck. "Oh, John, I'm so sorry!"  
  
John placed his free hand on Ronnie's back. "It's f-fine."  
  
"It's not!" Ronnie exclaimed as her hands slipped unexpectedly down his back and found his right hand, curled into a fist and placed firmly against his tailbone.  
  
Ronnie gently wrapped her fingers around his fist and pulled it out from behind his back. As she took a step back, she saw that John's long fingers were wrapped tightly around the stem of a beautiful red rose.  
  
She lifted her gaze to John's face, but he was eyeing the bouquet in the crook of her arm. The flowers were wilting slightly, after being crushed against John's chest when Ronnie embraced him.  
  
"Roses _and_ lilies?" John said politely, though his expression was blank. "He must have expensive taste."  
  
Ronnie reached up and touched his face. "John, no," she whispered. "Please don't think..."  
  
John looked away. "I don't think anything," he said darkly. "I _know_."  
  
Ronnie gently grasped his chin and turned his face back to her. "What do you know?"  
  
John finally allowed his mask of indifference to melt away, leaving a look of bitter anguish written across his face. "That I have to let you go."  
  
Ronnie bit down on her lip and realized her mother was right. June was approaching rapidly.  
  
John lifted his hand, opened his fingers, and balancing the rose in his palm, offered it to Ronnie.  
  
"It's nothing compared to what he gave you," he said quietly. "But it's all I could..." John swiftly dropped his head as his cheeks burned.  
  
Ronnie's eyes filled with tears. He hadn't been able to finish his sentence, but she had grasped his meaning. Queen was not doing well financially and though John didn't speak of it often, she got the impression that he and the band were quite broke.  
  
"Well, I love it ten times more than what he gave me," Ronnie said softly as she used her thumb and forefinger to gently pluck it out of John's hand.  
  
It was then that she saw the blood pooling on the surface of his palm. It trickled downward slightly, running down his middle finger and dripping red specks onto the freshly fallen snow on the sidewalk.  
  
"Come with me," she whispered and taking his arm, she pulled him to the door.  
  
\---  
  
"Is he the one you're going to marry?"  
  
Ronnie lifted her gaze to stare into space, before looking down at John's hand as she held a wet cloth against his wound. "I don't know."  
  
John's fingers trembled and Ronnie wrapped her own fingers around his, to still them.  
  
"Do you...do you like him?"  
  
"I can't stand him," Ronnie replied, as she tossed the cloth aside, placed a band-aid over the puncture mark on John's palm, and got to her feet.  
  
As John sat quietly, she made a show of banishing Archibald's flowers to a chair in the corner, before filling a glass with water and lovingly putting John's long-stemmed rose into it, at the center of her table.   
  
She then turned to him and held out her hands.  
  
With a heavy heart, John linked his fingers through hers.  
  
"I am so sorry, John," Ronnie said as she looked down at him. "After dinner, I was almost out the door and I would have been on time, but then Archibald arrived." She shook her head angrily. "I think my parents invited him. I think they're trying to set us up."  
  
John dropped his gaze slowly, until he was staring at her belly, and nodded numbly.  
  
Ronnie knelt before him, so that he was forced to look into her eyes.  
  
"They wouldn't let me go," she whispered. "I begged them. And every time I tried to leave, they found a way to make me stay."  
  
John squeezed her hands tightly.  
  
"And I only accepted a ride home from him because I knew I would get to you faster that way," Ronnie continued.  
  
"I understand," John whispered, just like Ronnie predicted he would.  
  
Ronnie leaned her elbows on his knees, finding she needed to speak to his chest instead of his face, because what she had to say next was extraordinary difficult.  
  
"If you want to go," she said slowly, "I won't hold it against you."  
  
"Go where?" John asked.  
  
"If you want to _leave_. Me."  
  
She sensed John was shaking his head, so she plowed on.  
  
"John, I still have four months left of independence, but if you want to leave now, you can. If it hurts now, imagine how it's going to feel in June."  
  
John pulled his fingers free, placed his hands on Ronnie's waist, and lifted her onto his lap. Wrapping his arms around her, he buried his face in her chest.  
  
A tear streamed down Ronnie's face as she cradled John's head against her heart.  
  
"No," he said in a muffled voice.  
  
"What?" Ronnie whispered.  
  
John lifted his head. "I'm going to stay with you until the end."  
  
Ronnie let out a small sob as she brushed his hair away from his face.  
  
"I would think that one y-year of love is better than being alone," John said softly, as he reached for the white box he had brought with him and placed it into Ronnie's hands.  
  
Lifting the lid, Ronnie saw a little cupcake with pink frosting and tiny red heart-shaped sprinkles.  
  
Despite the painful conversation she and John had just had, she found herself absolutely delighted. "Another cupcake!"   
  
"So you'll finally eat the one you've been hiding under your bed," John said practically.  
  
Ronnie's eyes widened. "How did you know about that?"  
  
John winked at her. "Happy Birthday, Ronnie."  
  
 **April 1973**  
  
John closed the hood of Silver Bullet with a sigh and gave the car a reassuring pat. He and Ronnie had just broken down on the side of the road but he was quite handy and was sure the problem was now fixed.  
  
But there was another problem that was certainly _not_ fixed (and probably wouldn't ever be) and he found himself turning to Ronnie, who had been leaning against the car and watching him with interest.  
  
"What can I do to make your parents like me?"  
  
Ronnie blinked at him in surprise. "What?"  
  
The corner of John's mouth lifted into a small smile as he repeated his question. "How can I make your parents like me?"  
  
Ronnie knew that she could never present John to her parents, and John knew that as well, so she figured he wasn't being serious.   
  
Which is why she only thought about the question for a moment, before replying, "Cut your hair and convert to the Catholic faith."  
  
John nodded. "All right."  
  
Ronnie's jaw dropped. "John, I'm joking!"  
  
She circled the car and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Don't ever change. Especially not for the likes of them. I love you just the way you are."  
  
John stared down at her. "You...you love me?"  
  
Ronnie covered her mouth as she realized what she had said. Sure, it could be considered an expression, but she knew it was obvious to both of them that in this case, it was anything but that.  
  
Blushing furiously, she turned and wandered to the other side of the car, to give herself a moment to think.  
  
But John had come around the back end of the car and met her, face to face, at the passenger side door. He leaned against it, preventing her from diving inside and evading his question. Folding his arms, he waited patiently.  
  
Flustered, Ronnie turned and leaned her back against the car. "John, it doesn't matter!"  
  
"It matters to me," John said quietly.  
  
"But you know we can't!"  
  
"Can't what?" John asked gently.  
  
Ronnie looked down the bridge of her nose, at her shoes. "Love one another."  
  
John had taken pity on her then, and opening the door, he settled her into the passenger seat and drove her home, without another word about it.  
  
But at the door of her flat, he leaned down and kissed her on the cheek. "I love you, too," he whispered as he backed away. And though he was very shy, he made sure to keep his eyes on her, so that she'd see how serious he was.  
  
Ronnie stared at him in wonder as she watched him leave and when he was gone, she let herself into her flat with trembling fingers. Once safely inside, she sunk to her knees and sighed.  
  
She had been carefully avoiding telling him she loved him because she knew if she did, there really would be no turning back. But now he had said it out loud and it was official.  
  
They were inexplicably linked to each other.  
  
Ronnie twisted her fingers into her hair as she squeezed her eyes shut and wondered what was she going to do when her year of independence ended in two months.  
  
 **May 31, 1973**  
  
"Hi Veronica."  
  
Ronnie jumped, her hand pressed against her heart, and spun around to see Archibald standing behind her.  
  
"Hi Archibald," Ronnie replied, before looking over her shoulder, only to see her parents getting into their car, waving cheerfully at her, and speeding away.  
  
Ronnie's mouth dropped. They were her ride home!  
  
It was a Thursday, but the parishioners had met to discuss an upcoming summer bazaar to raise money for the church, and she had thought it was so gracious of her parents to offer her a ride back to her flat because it was raining, yet now she saw this had been part of their plan.  
  
Her last day of independence and they were stranding her at the church with Archibald, knowing she would need to accept a ride from him because otherwise, she'd be soaked to the bone.  
  
Archibald stepped closer, so that she was safely under his umbrella.  
  
"Would you like a ride home?"  
  
 _I guess I have no choice, do I?_  
  
"If you wouldn't mind," Ronnie said, trying not to sound as disappointed as she felt.  
  
"Of course not," Archibald said warmly. "But Veronica, I also wanted to ask you..."  
  
Ronnie listened to the rain drum against the umbrella and thought to herself, _No. No, no, NO.  
_  
"If perhaps you'd like to go out with me tomorrow evening?"  
  
"I have plans tomorrow evening."  
  
"No matter!" Archibald said cheerfully. "What about next Friday?"  
  
Ronnie's heart sunk. She suddenly felt very much like a caged bird.  
  
"No," she said softly. "I'm afraid I can't do then, either."  
  
Archibald frowned. "You're awfully busy, aren't you?"  
  
"Nothing wrong with that," Ronnie said nonchalantly, though there was a warning signal deep in her gut.  
  
"No," Archibald agreed. "Except when you're being busy with _the wrong person_."  
  
Ronnie's face darkened. "What do you mean by that?"  
  
"That chap you're hanging 'round with!"  
  
"What about him?"  
  
"Did your parents not tell you to break it off with him?" Archibald huffed.  
  
"They _told_ you that?" Ronnie whispered furiously.  
  
"Well, yes," Archibald said. "So I'd be the one to rescue you from him."  
  
Ronnie folded her arms tightly against her chest. "And what's your reward?"  
  
"You," Archibald said simply. "As my wife."  
  
Ronnie's lip curled in disgust as she stepped out from under his umbrella and into the rain.  
  
"Careful, Veronica," Archibald said as he quickly moved to cover her again. "You'll get wet."  
  
Ronnie dodged the umbrella and stayed out in the rain. "So this isn't of your own accord? My parents asked you to court me and take me away from others and buy me flowers on my birthday and you agreed so you'd have a _wife?"_  
  
Archibald shrugged. "Yes."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because as _your_ pastor's son, I am going to inherit the church in a few years time," Archibald said firmly. "And I need to make sure that this church stays in my family. Which means that when I'm old, there needs to be someone to inherit the title of pastor."  
  
Ronnie slowly put the pieces of the puzzle together and suddenly felt very sick.  
  
"That's where you come in, Veronica," Archibald explained. "You are Catholic and in your prime child bearing years. I want you to be my wife."  
  
As the cold rain continued to pelt her in the face, Veronica felt an uncharacteristic fire suddenly lit deep within her belly. It rose up to burn in her chest and she clenched her teeth, realizing that she had been betrayed by her own parents, that they truly didn't care about her, and Archibald wouldn't care about her either.  
  
All these people cared about was making sure their religion lived on.  
  
"Well I have news for you," Ronnie said angrily. "I'm not going to marry you. I'm not going to marry anyone!"  
  
"That's not what your parents say," Archibald warned.  
  
"Because they don't know yet, but I'm going to become a nun!" Ronnie shouted. "A childless, virgin nun who is going to live and _die_ alone! I will serve _no man!"_  
  
And with that being said, she turned and stormed away from a very shocked Archibald but, unfortunately, not away from everything she had just learned.  
  
All these new revelations followed her as she broke into a run, her clothes and her raincoat becoming increasingly heavy as they absorbed even more water, and finally, Ronnie collapsed on a bench and buried her head in her arms as sheets of rain drenched her.  
  
After some time, she felt a gentle arm around her waist, pulling her to a standing position, and not able to see through the rain or her tears, she allowed the stranger to lead her where they would because, honestly, nothing could be worse than what she was currently experiencing.  
  
She was shocked when she suddenly felt the sensation of being warm and out of the rain and realized that she had been brought into a building. With an arm still around her, the stranger helped her up a set of stairs, and Ronnie was too distraught to bother to look over and see who they were, or to know that she should recognize where she was. They stopped in front of a door and a fist reached out to knock on it.  
  
The door opened and John appeared. He took in the scene in front of him and his eyes widened in shock as he whispered, "Ronnie?"  
  
Right on cue, Ronnie burst into fresh tears.  
  
John reached for her immediately and acknowledged the man who had saved her from the rain. "Thank you, Nigel."  
  
Nigel nodded. "Call me later."  
  
Holding Ronnie tightly against him with one arm, John pulled her into his flat and shut the door, before taking her face in his hands, his eyes searching hers, and saying softly, "Ronnie, what's wrong? Tell me what happened."  
  
Ronnie squeezed her eyes shut, leaned her forehead against John's chest, and cried harder.  
  
Holding her close, John whispered into her ear, trying his best to calm her down as her wet clothes soaked him to the skin. He slipped his hands under her raincoat and pressing his fingers into her back, felt how absolutely drenched she was.  
  
Keeping one arm firmly around her shoulders, John walked her to the bathroom and managed to remove her soaked raincoat. Sitting her on the edge of the tub, just like he had so many months before, he pulled off her shoes and socks and threw her wet things into the tub. Handing her a towel, he assured her he'd be back with a change of clothes.  
  
But when he returned, John took one look at Ronnie and found himself stuck in the doorway, unable to move.

Because he had _never_ seen her like this before. He had only ever seen her face, arms, and feet bare, but now he observed her as she sat on the edge of his bathtub, wrapped only in a towel, and his cheeks burned as his gaze found her toes and slowly roamed up her smooth legs, to her knees, where her legs were crossed, and where her elbows were resting on her bare thigh as she hid her face in her hands.  
  
Feeling almost ashamed, John forced himself forward and placed the clothes he had picked out beside her, before retreating back to his bedroom. He slipped off his own wet shirt and rummaged through his drawers for something else to wear, as he tried not to think about how devastated she was, and how beautiful she was, and how she would never, ever be his...  
  
John jumped when he felt a gentle hand on the bare skin of his back. Turning slowly, he looked down into Ronnie's anguished face.  
  
Keeping her gaze locked with his, Ronnie slowly ran her fingers over his right shoulder, across his collarbone, and down the center of his chest until it was resting over his heart. Swallowing hard, her eyes implored him as she whispered, "Please?"  
  
Although she had barely said anything, John knew exactly what she was asking of him.  
  
Taking a deep breath, which promptly got caught somewhere in his throat, John walked away from her and sat on the edge of the bed, trying to give himself time to think.  
  
Ronnie followed and stood in front of him, adorned in his Queen shirt and pajama pants. She slowly reached out, placing her hands on his shoulders.  
  
John reached out trembling fingers and grasped her waist as he pulled her closer, staring straight ahead, thankful that her chest was hidden in the many folds of the giant shirt she was wearing.  
  
"John, please," Ronnie whispered again, her voice filled with despair.  
  
John slowly looked up into her eyes as she pressed him down onto the bed and climbed on top of him. Her eyes were full of tears.  
  
"Ronnie, no," John said in a pained voice.  
  
"Why not?" Ronnie asked, her voice barely above a whisper.  
  
"I can't," John said quietly. "I can't do this, knowing that I can't have you."  
  
Ronnie stared at him for a moment, as a single tear slipped down her nose and landed on his bottom lip. Slowly, he bit his lip and tasted salt and longing.  
  
"What if I told you that you could?" Ronnie said softly.  
  
"Could what?" John asked miserably, though he was only buying time.

"Have me."

John shook his head vehemently. "You're promised to someone else."

"Not officially."

"But you will be!" John said, his voice rising. "Ronnie, your parents would _kill_ me."  
  
Ronnie slowly leaned over him as another tear slid down her cheek. "They won't ever know. Not unless you tell them..."  
  
And before John could say anything else, Ronnie pressed her lips desperately against his and he felt himself melt as he pulled her down on top of him.  
  
But when she let out a muffled sob, it was if he had swallowed it, and he felt in his heart a terrible ache, a fraction of what she was feeling herself, and he suddenly felt guilty, like he couldn't possibly take this important step with her when she was feeling so emotionally unwell.  
  
He broke their kiss and sat upright, his gaze dropping to the Queen t-shirt Ronnie was wearing and he found himself staring right into the eyes of his bandmates, who just so happened to be printed on this very shirt, and John wished for a moment that he could ask their advice.  
  
And because this entire night wasn't absurd enough, John heard, clear as day, their voices in his mind.  
  
 _Do it!_ Roger whispered gleefully. _Do it, Deaky, you dog!  
_  
 _Now or never, darling,_ Freddie said softly. _The night is young, and so are the both of you..._  
  
 _But be safe,_ Brian added. _There are serious consequences if you aren't prepared for this..._  
  
John felt himself deflate with relief. They couldn't possibly do anything tonight because he didn't have any way to keep her safe.  
  
"Tomorrow," he said firmly.  
  
Ronnie stared at him. "Tomorrow?"   
  
"Under three conditions."  
  
"All right," Ronnie whispered.  
  
"The first is that I need to obtain some sort of...p-protection," John said, his cheeks burning red. "I need to make sure you're safe when we..."  
  
He looked away, before continuing, "Second, I want to take you on a date first. A proper date."  
  
In spite of her misery, Ronnie found the corner of her mouth lifting in the smallest of smiles. John was so... _traditional._ "And the third condition?" she asked.  
  
John looked directly into her eyes then. "Tell me what's wrong," he said gently.  
  
Ronnie climbed off him and curled onto one side of his bed, her back to him as she twisted her fingers into his pillow. John curled himself around her and pressed his cheek against hers.  
  
Between fits of tears, Ronnie told him about being left in the rain with Archibald, about Archibald's plans for her, and how her parents had agreed to it all. She told him that she felt betrayed, that she felt like her parents didn't care about her. She admitted that she was very suddenly sick and tired of her family's religion.  
  
"But Ronnie," John said quietly. "What we're going to do t-tomorrow is considered a...a sin."  
  
Ronnie absentmindedly played with the ring on the middle finger of John's right hand. "I don't think love is a sin. Do you?"  
  
John twisted the ring off his finger and placed it in Ronnie's left hand. Closing her fingers over it, he placed her fist, with the ring inside, against her heart - his promise to her.  
  
"No," he agreed, his own heart beating wildly in his chest. "I don't."


	6. Chapter 6

_Well, they showed you a statue, told you to pray_   
_They built you a temple and locked you away_   
_But they never told you the price that you pay_   
_For things that you might have done_   
  
**June 1, 1973**

John took a deep, shaky breath before reaching one long finger towards the front of the van and poking Brian in the shoulder.  
  
"Hmm?" Brian said, as he glanced up into the rearview mirror. "Yes, John?"  
  
John leaned forward and spoke to Brian's left ear so that Roger and Freddie wouldn't hear. "Could we stop at the store on the corner? Just for a m-moment...I'll be in and out."  
  
"Of course," Brian said, as he pulled into the parking lot.  
  
"What's this?" Roger asked from the passenger seat.  
  
"I just need to get something," John said, opening his door before Brian had even stopped. "Y-you all just stay put...I'll be quick..."  
  
And with that being said, he leapt out of the backseat, slammed the door shut, and ran to the building.  
  
However, John was still unfailingly polite and though he was in a hurry, he made sure to hold the door open for whoever was entering the store behind him.  
  
Turning, his stomach dropped when he came face to face with Roger.  
  
"Why, thank you, Deaky!" Roger said cheerfully, taking the door as Freddie and Brian approached.  
  
"You...you really don't have to come," John insisted nervously.  
  
"What, and miss a fun trip to the store?" Roger asked in disbelief as he pushed John inside.  
  
"Indeed," Freddie agreed as he grabbed one of the small shopping baskets at the entrance. "Brilliant idea, Deaky. Roger and I completely forgot that we needed a few things."  
  
With the sensation of his heart slowly inching into his throat, John wandered off as he tried to brainstorm how he was going to purchase what he needed without the rest of the band seeing.  
  
Slowly, and as casually as possible, John inched towards the aisle that held contraceptives.  
  
Until Roger barreled by like a hurricane and got to the aisle before he did. John quickly changed direction and ducked into the next aisle. Crouching low, he peered around the corner.  
  
Roger's arm emerged from the aisle as he waved a box of tampons in the air. "We should probably get a box of these for next time you get a nose bleed, Freddie. We can keep them in the studio."  
  
Brian ran a hand down his face. "Roger, those aren't..."  
  
"Hmm, yes," Freddie agreed and put the box in his little basket. "All right."  
  
As Roger dashed to the next aisle, John sighed because it was now or never, and taking a determined step out of the aisle, he collided with Freddie.

Freddie glanced at the aisle John had just come out of, before a smile slowly spread across his face. "Darling, are you trying to tell us something?"   
  
John looked over his shoulder and saw that his aisle of refuge was filled with diapers, formula, and little teddy bears.  
  
"Don't tell me that Veronica is in the family way!" Freddie exclaimed in an excited whisper, barely able to contain his enthusiasm.  
  
"N-no," John said quickly. "She's not. I just ended up in the...the wrong aisle."  
  
"Well, let's get you into the correct aisle, dear!" Freddie said reasonably. "What is it you're looking for?"  
  
John shook his head. "No, no. They probably don't have what I'm looking for."  
  
Freddie frowned, before walking a few aisles down and waving at someone. "Miss? Miss! Could you please assist us?"  
  
John's cheeks turned pink. "Freddie!"  
  
A young woman emerged from an aisle, wearing an apron and a name badge. "Yes? How can I help you, sir?"  
  
Freddie turned to John. "John, tell the nice lady what you're looking for."  
  
The pink in John's cheeks gradually turned to a deep shade of rose. "I...I..."  
  
Freddie nodded slowly and encouragingly. "That's it, dear, you're looking for...?"  
  
"I'm l-looking for...for..." John stuttered, knowing he couldn't possibly ask the store clerk for what he truly wanted because he'd likely die of embarrassment, but being put on the spot like this, nothing else would come to mind.  
  
The young woman leaned forward, putting her best listening ear forward, as she waited for John to go on.  
  
"...a box of c-c..."   
  
Freddie squinted carefully at his bandmate, because John's red face and nervous demeanor were telling quite a story, and besides, Freddie was no fool.  
  
"...crackers," John finished in a whisper.  
  
The employee nodded and waved her hand, indicating that John should follow her. "This way. Aisle four."  
  
With his heart still hammering in his chest, John allowed the woman to lead him to the snack aisle. But when she was gone, he hastily walked the other way, until he was back at the aisle he really needed to be in.   
  
Practically running to the center, John found what he was looking for and was about to grab a box and run to the register, when he stopped short.  
  
Because he hadn't expected there to be so much variety, so many different kinds, so many distinct brands, and...which one was the best one to go with?  
  
Freddie strolled casually around the corner. "Condoms, dear?"  
  
John jumped and turned away from the shelves upon shelves of contraceptives, but came face to face with shelves upon shelves of maxi pads, instead.  
  
Freddie put a kind hand on John's shoulder. "Darling, why didn't you just say so to begin with?"  
  
"Because it's just so..." John let out an anxious breath. "...personal."  
  
"Nonsense, darling," Freddie said with a dismissive wave, as he turned his friend back to the practically limitless selection of contraceptives.  
  
" _There_ you are!" Roger's voice exclaimed from the aisle's end. "What are you doing down here?"  
  
"Come, Roger darling," Freddie said importantly. "We're going to help Deaky pick out the perfect condom."  
  
John covered his eyes with his hand.  
  
Excitement lit up Roger's eyes. "Excellent!"  
  
"No, really - " John began.  
  
Roger plucked a small box off the shelf. "How about ribbed?"  
  
"Don't be _silly_ , darling, we need to be more practical than that," Freddie said as he picked up a different box. "Deaky, might I suggest these tri-colored ones in the national colors of Britannia? Pleasurable _and_ patriotic."  
  
"Oh my God," John whispered in disbelief, hiding his face in his hands.  
  
"Don't use the Lord's name in vain, Deaky," Freddie warned. "Veronica's parents wouldn't like that."  
  
 _That's not the only thing her parents won't like,_ John thought miserably to himself.  
  
Roger snatched the box from Freddie and selected something new. "Tingling is the way to go!"  
  
Freddie shook his head. "It's clear the only right choice is ultra thin. Barely there, darling!"  
  
Roger turned then and saw a middle-aged man in a suit at the end of the aisle, staring at them over his glasses with a bewildered expression. John let out an imperceptible moan and turned away.  
  
"What!" Roger said fiercely. "Do _you_ need help picking some out?"  
  
The customer shook his head and went on his way.  
  
"Sheesh," Roger muttered, before poking John in the shoulder and forcing him to face them once more. "Well, help us out, Deaks! What kind of ride do you want?"  
  
"A ride home, please," John said in a mortified whisper.  
  
"Brian!" Roger shouted to the other end of the aisle, where Brian was waiting patiently. "Brian, what do you suggest?"  
  
"How about a nice box of breath mints, instead?" Brian suggested, trying his best to aid John. "Cool _and_ sensational."  
  
"Freddie, _please_ ," John said quietly, his eyes pleading.  
  
Taking pity on his friend, Freddie picked out the kind that was standard, regular, plain. "We'll keep it gentle, then, darling," he said reassuringly and put the box in his basket.  
  
As they left the aisle, Roger took the box out of the basket. "I'm going to buy them."  
  
"No, that's not necessary," Freddie said as he took the box out of Roger's hand.  
  
"But _I_ want to be the one to buy Deaky his first box!"

"You know you can't possibly afford them, darling," Freddie said dismissively. "I should be the one to buy them."  
  
"You make the same amount of money as I do!" Roger protested.  
  
Brian put a comforting hand on John's shoulder. "We're going to wait in the van," he announced.  
  
"Yes, yes, fine," Freddie said, distracted, as he continued to argue with Roger all the way up to the register.

Brian led an exhausted John back out to the parking lot. With an embarrassed sigh, John slipped into the back of the van and leaned his head against the seat.  
  
After a few moments of silence, Brian casually asked, "When?"  
  
"Tonight," John whispered.  
  
Brian smiled at him in the rearview mirror. "You'll be fine. It's clear she adores you."  
  
And though John was intensely anxious and beyond mortified, he managed to smile back.  
  
 **That Evening**  
  
When the knock on the door reverberated through her flat that night, Ronnie wasn't emotionally prepared.  
  
As she checked her appearance in the mirror one last time, she pressed her hands to her red cheeks. The warmth burned her palms and she had a terrible headache and every muscle in her body ached, but the Tylenol she had taken an hour before would just have to do.  
  
Ronnie walked slowly to the door, thinking of how she wasn't ready for what she had begged John for the night before, but it was much too late to cancel and though she felt sick at heart - as well as physically ill - she dressed up nicely, combed her hair out, and resolved to at least get through the evening, for John's sake, because he was clearly anticipating this, their first official date.  
  
Ronnie tried not to imagine how his sweet face would melt with disappointment when she told him it would also be their last date.  
  
When Ronnie opened the door, her heart sunk right down to her toes because John was dressed in a gray suit, and it was clear he had gotten his hair trimmed for the occasion, and he was holding a bouquet of flowers.  
  
John slowly began to smile when he saw her, but as he took in the tears in her eyes, her flushed face, and overall weary demeanor, the smile slid off his face.  
  
Ronnie tried to smile but failed miserably. She reminded herself that she had to get through this date without infecting John with her misery.  
  
"Ronnie," John whispered. "You're not well."  
  
Ronnie had been prepared to insist that she was fine while pushing him right to the car so that they could get dinner over with, but she found she didn't have it in her. She merely nodded in agreement because he was right. She wasn't at all well.  
  
As she pulled him into her flat and shut the door, John shyly held out the flowers to her.  
  
"They're beautiful," Ronnie said softly and she remembered her birthday back in February, when Archibald had given her an enormous bouquet of flowers and it had made John feel so inadequate with his single rose.   
  
And now John was the one giving her a lovely bouquet of roses and it made her feel terrible because he shouldn't have spent the money on this when she would soon be ruining his evening. As well as her own.  
  
Turning away, Ronnie rummaged through a cabinet for a vase, to give herself a bit of time to think. But her hands were shaking and as soon as she found it, she dropped it on the floor.  
  
It smashed into dozens of tiny pieces.  
  
Ronnie got onto her knees at the same time John did, in order to help clear the shards of glass, but as John bent over, something fell out of his pocket.  
  
Before John could hide it, Ronnie reached for it. With gentle fingers, she cupped it in her hand, as if it were a tiny bird, and fell sideways onto her left hip, as she leaned her head against the wall.  
  
It was a condom and Ronnie pressed it against her heart and burst into tears as she thought about the conversation she had with her parents earlier that day.  
  
 _"Veronica, we didn't know!" her mother insisted as Ronnie roamed restlessly around her parents' kitchen like a caged tiger. "We didn't know those were his intentions!"  
_  
 _"You knew he wanted to marry me!" Ronnie exclaimed.  
_  
 _"Yes," her father agreed calmly. "But we didn't know he wanted to use you as his own personal heir making machine."  
_  
 _"Oh, I'm so disappointed!" Mrs. Tetzlaff said tearfully. "I really thought Archie was the one for you, dear."  
_  
 _"Aren't priests supposed to be celibate?" Ronnie asked. "He thinks he's inheriting an empire by becoming pastor of the church and that he's going to produce heir upon heir!"  
_  
 _Mr. Tetzlaff sighed. "I suppose no one has told him yet that he's adopted."  
_  
 _Ronnie raised her eyebrows in surprise.  
_  
 _"There are rare exceptions to the rule of pastors marrying," Mr. Tetzlaff added. "We figured Archibald might have been one of those exceptions to the rule, which is why we encouraged his courtship of you. But perhaps no one told him the truth about priests and celibacy. He always was spoiled."  
_  
 _"So I don't have to marry him?" Ronnie asked hopefully.  
_  
 _"No."  
_  
 _Ronnie sighed in relief.  
  
_ _"But you do need to marry," Mr. Tetzlaff said sternly.  
_  
 _"Mom? Dad?" Ronnie said softly. "Does he need to be Catholic? What if he was of a different faith, or no faith at all, but he was a really wonderful man?"  
_  
 _"No," Mr. Tetzlaff said firmly. "Absolutely not."  
_  
 _"You know the ways of our faith, dear," Mrs. Tetzlaff added. "This is the way it must be."  
_  
 _"But what if I don't find anyone Catholic whom I love?" Ronnie protested.  
_  
 _"Love?" Mr. Tetzlaff bristled. "Who said love has anything to do with it?"  
_  
 _"You will find someone of our faith to love," Mrs. Tetzlaff said optimistically. "I'm sure of it, Veronica."  
_  
 _Mr. Tetzlaff stared at his daughter suspiciously. "This doesn't have anything to do with that Deacon boy again, does it?"  
_  
 _Ronnie sighed. "It doesn't matter. I can't marry him."  
_  
 _"You've fraternized with this boy long enough," Mr. Tetzlaff said harshly. "It's time to grow up now, Veronica!"  
_  
 _"Veronica, dear, you must know he can't be anything to you," Mrs. Tetzlaff said soothingly. "He will only break your heart."  
_  
 _"Or worse," Mr. Tetzlaff muttered.  
_  
 _"He's just my friend," Ronnie said, before a little voice added in her head,_ yes, your friend who kisses you passionately and holds you tight through the night and promised you something very special this evening...  
  
 _"Good," Mr. Tetzlaff grunted.  
_  
 _Ronnie bid her parents a good afternoon and practically ran back to her flat.  
_  
When Ronnie was finally able to bring herself back to the present, she was in John's arms and he was whispering to her.  
  
"Sshh," he said gently. "Ronnie, we don't have to do this if you're not ready."  
  
"I want to," Ronnie cried. "But we can't. I'm so sorry, John, I know I begged for it last night like a whore but..."  
  
John shook his head. "You were upset and you wanted to forget. I understand."  
  
"I wanted _you_ ," Ronnie whispered, "but I talked to my parents today and John, I can't...I can't have you."  
  
John sighed and it stirred her hair gently. What she was telling him wasn't anything new, but hearing it never got any easier.  
  
Ronnie pressed her forehead against John's and entwined her fingers through his hair. "We need to stop, John. If we don't, it'll only get worse."  
  
John went completely silent.  
  
"John, I feel like we're on a sinking ship," Ronnie said in a low, anguished voice. "The longer we're together, the further the ship goes down into the ocean, and the only way to safety is by lifeboat. But we have to go in separate lifeboats in order to be saved."  
  
John pulled his forehead away from hers and put the back of his hand against her cheek, and then her forehead. "Ronnie, you're burning up."  
  
"John, listen to me," Ronnie said desperately. "It doesn't need to be right away. We need to pull away from each other romantically but we can do it gently, gradually over time. But I still want to be your friend. For always."  
  
And very gently, Ronnie placed the condom in his palm and closed his fingers over it.  
  
John tucked it into his pocket. It felt as heavy as a stone.  
  
"And so this will be our first date," Ronnie said quietly, "but it will also be our last."  
  
"V-very well," John said bravely.  
  
Ronnie nodded. "I'll get my jacket."  
  
"You're not going anywhere," John said gently as he put his hand out to stop her. "You have a fever."  
  
"But our date..."  
  
"We'll have it here," John said as he helped her to the sofa and instructed her to stay put.  
  
Ronnie agreed and wearily fell against the sofa pillows.  
  
John got back onto his knees and gathered up the broken glass as he tried to control the sinking feeling in his chest and as he tried to accept the horrible realization that his time with Ronnie really would be coming to an end. As he tossed the glass shards into the trash and looked for another vase for the flowers, he didn't bother to hide how heartbroken he was.  
  
But by the time he returned to Ronnie on the sofa, his face was a calm mask.  
  
"How did I manage to get this sick?" she whispered.  
  
"Stress," John said confidently. "And being out in the rain for so long last night."  
  
Ronnie sighed and closed her eyes.  
  
John and Ronnie's first (and last) date only consisted of hot chicken noodle soup on the sofa and an old movie, but to Ronnie, it was perfect. And at the end of their evening, John carried her to her bed, tucked her in, and stayed with her for one last night.  
  
It wasn't the evening they had planned, but Ronnie was grateful he was there, and she buried her head in his shoulder and allowed sleep and misery to slowly conquer her.  
  
At the same time, John fought against his own misery and wondered to himself how he would ever have the courage to let her go.  
  
 **September 1973**  
  
One blustery fall evening, Ronnie pulled the heavy door to her church closed. It was the anniversary of John's father's death, and she thought perhaps John would be here like he was the year before, but the church had been empty and silent.  
  
Feeling worried, Ronnie tucked her cold fingers into her jacket pockets and began the walk to John's flat. He hadn't answered his phone all day and she was sure he was only distancing himself in order to grieve, but she didn't feel he should be alone.  
  
And besides, Queen was leaving for a tour in a few days and wouldn't return until December. She wanted to see him before he left.  
  
As the wind intensified and scuttled dry, colorful leaves across the sidewalk, Ronnie thought about how John had begun to distance himself at the end of August, just like Nigel had warned her he would, the year before. And she knew the fact that she and John were slowly distancing themselves from each other was not helping one bit.  
  
As Ronnie let herself into John's building, she thought about how final things were becoming. The last time he had stayed over at her flat had been the night she had a fever in June. The last time they had kissed had been when Ronnie had given John a peck on the cheek on his birthday in August. The last time they had _truly_ kissed had been the beginning of July.  
  
The last time she had allowed John to hold her had been the end of July. And the last time they had held hands had been two weeks ago. Before long, they wouldn't have any physical contact at all.  
  
Ronnie knocked on John's door and after a few moments, it slowly opened.  
  
John didn't seem surprised to see her and he didn't bother to hide the fact that his eyes were puffy and red-rimmed. He merely motioned her into the flat and closed the door firmly behind them.  
  
"How are you doing?" Ronnie asked, before biting her tongue. What a _stupid_ question, she knew _exactly_ how he was doing.  
  
John's lower lip trembled in response.  
  
"I just wanted to make sure you were all right," Ronnie said quietly, "and to wish you good luck on your tour and..."  
  
She trailed off because John was still very quiet, as if he didn't quite trust himself to speak. He gazed down at her with that anguished expression in his eyes.  
  
Ronnie desperately wanted him to know that she was there for him, that he wasn't alone, but how could she do that for him without touching him?  
  
Tentatively, she reached for one of his hands and held it tightly in her own. "Tell me how I can help you," she whispered.  
  
John took two steps closer. Without meaning to, Ronnie took two steps back, though she was still gripping his fingers. She had programmed herself to avoid getting too close to him again and it was showing now, as she backed herself into a wall.  
  
She watched with wide eyes as John leaned down, his face just inches from hers. He waited, to see if she would push him away, because if she did, he would fully accept that.  
  
But she didn't and so, he pressed his lips desperately against hers.  
  
And Ronnie let him kiss her, even though alarm bells were sounding in her head, warning her that they were taking ten gigantic steps back and ruining all their progress, that they were making that metaphorical ship sink deeper into the sea.  
  
Slowly, he pulled back and looked down at the floor, wracked with guilt. "I'm s-sorry."  
  
In a low, gentle voice, Ronnie repeated the words that he had once said to her, when she had apologized for crying on his shoulder one Christmas Eve when they hadn't been much more than strangers.  
  
"But I'm not."  
  
John stared at her, before gathering her into a crushing hug. "Today his face started to blur," he whispered. "Not much, just the outline of his cheek and his jaw, but he's starting to fade from my memory..."  
  
He pulled away and traced the shape of Ronnie's own cheek with his finger.  
  
"And I can't _bear_ the thought of you with somebody else..." he added in a thick voice. "I think about it all the time and..."  
  
Ronnie stared at him helplessly because she knew of only one thing that may make him forget everything that was plaguing him tonight, but if she initiated it, she risked breaking her own heart in the process, along with his.  
  
And if they went through with it, things would never, ever be the same.  
  
Even so, she took his hand and pulled him to his bedroom, closed the door, and pressed her palms against his chest.  
  
John's eyes searched hers.  
  
"What if tonight..." Ronnie swallowed hard. "What if tonight we sunk the ship as deep as it can go?"  
  
"Ronnie..."  
  
"Right to the bottom of the ocean floor..." Ronnie continued, staring at him meaningfully.  
  
John slowly pulled her into a tight hug and laid his cheek on the top of her head.  
  
"You have to p-promise me that you're ready," he said firmly. "You have to promise me that you won't r-regret it."  
  
"I promise," Ronnie said bravely.  
  
"All right," John whispered and gently helped her climb onto the bed.  
  
Ronnie remembered many things about that night.  
  
She remembered how her body, previously uncharted territory and unexplored regions, was newly discovered inch by inch. She remembered getting completely and utterly lost in John's beautiful gray eyes, because she refused to look away, even for a second. She remembered not quite knowing how she should move, but doing what felt right, and that seemed to be enough. She remembered feeling whole for the first time in her entire life.  
  
And she remembered how, after, as she lay beside John with a towel tucked between her legs to soak up any blood, she buried her face in his pillow and cried because she had never felt so overwhelmed before.  
  
And because she knew that she was officially bound to him in ways she could never have imagined.

**Early April 1974**

After that night, John proved his love for her time and time again, and Ronnie accepted the fact that she had broken her own rules and that they couldn't turn back the clock. They couldn't turn back the tide.  
  
And so, they stayed together and though Ronnie's parents had mentioned marriage at least two more times since the previous fall, Ronnie kept them satisfied by assuring them that she was on the lookout for a good Catholic boy.  
  
And honestly, though she had no plans to look, she'd likely have the time on her hands to do so, because John would be departing soon for a tour of America with Queen.  
  
As she stood in the kitchen of her flat one spring morning, she thought to herself how she was going to miss him madly.  
  
"Ronnie?"  
  
Ronnie was pulled out of her thoughts by John's voice.   
  
"Yes?" she asked, looking up at him.  
  
John plucked something black out of the frying pan. "You burnt the pancake."  
  
Ronnie sighed as John tossed it in the trash.  
  
"Let's try again," John said, as he poured more batter into the pan.  
  
"Face it John," Ronnie said sadly. "I can't cook."  
  
John smiled. "We're going to change that."  
  
And so, he stood behind Ronnie and peered over her shoulder, supervising closely as she slowly flipped the pancake over.  
  
After a few moments, he stuck a fork in it.  
  
"What are you doing?" Ronnie asked suspiciously.  
  
"Tasting it," John replied. "In the name of science."  
  
Ronnie folded her arms and watched as he chewed slowly and swallowed painfully.  
  
"Well?" she asked.  
  
"I think we better try again."  
  
Ronnie tossed the spatula in the soapy dishwasher in the sink and turned off the stove. Turning, she pushed John out of the kitchen.  
  
"I know something else we could do in the name of science," she said suggestively.  
  
"I thought you didn't like science," John pointed out.  
  
"Then let's call it art," Ronnie said, as she pressed her nose against his.  
  
John laughed at that and, scooping her up in his arms, carried her to her room...for the sake of art.


	7. Chapter 7

_So come on Veronica show me a sign_   
_Send up a signal and I'll throw you the line_

**October 1974  
**  
"So Veronica."  
  
Ronnie looked up from her plate. "Yes, Dad?"  
  
Mr. Tetzlaff cleared his throat importantly. "Jacob Feller from the congregation came to see me today...."  
  
Ronnie shoved a forkful of vegetables in her mouth.  
  
"...and he asked for your hand," Mr. Tetzlaff eyed his daughter carefully over his spectacles.  
  
Ronnie stopped chewing. "What does he want with it?"  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
Ronnie knew exactly what Jacob Feller wanted with her hand but she had to try and buy herself a bit of time to extract herself from the uncomfortable conversation that she knew was coming. "My hand."  
  
"In _marriage_ ," Mr. Tetzlaff said tightly. "He asked for your hand in _marriage_."  
  
"But I barely know him," Ronnie pointed out.  
  
"Perhaps you could get to know him?" Mrs. Tetzlaff suggested hopefully.  
  
"You say hello to him every Sunday," Mr. Tetzlaff noted.  
  
Ronnie opened her mouth to say that meant absolutely _nothing_ , but instead, found herself asking curiously, "What did you tell him?"  
  
"I told him he had my permission to ask you," Mr. Tetzlaff replied.  
  
Ronnie sighed and stared at her plate as she pushed it away, already knowing her answer would be no.  
  
"I'd think very carefully about his offer, if I were you," Mr. Tetzlaff warned her.  
  
Ronnie slowly looked up.  
  
"And I think now would be a good time to tell your _friend_ Mr. Deacon that he's had his fun and now would be a good time to move onto his next victim. Because you are otherwise engaged."  
  
Ronnie's mouth dropped open.  
  
"We saw you with him last week, Veronica," Mrs. Tetzlaff said quietly. "You were walking past the church with him, hand in hand."  
  
Ronnie, surprised at the engagement announcement and alarmed that her parents had actually seen her with John, found herself caught in a silent trap as a heavy stone of dread settled in the pit of her stomach. There was no point in telling them that she was looking for a Catholic husband and there was point in assuring them that John was just her friend. They already knew that neither claim was true.  
  
"I think you have a very important choice to make tonight," Mr. Tetzlaff said softly. "Us. Or him."  
  
Mrs. Tetzlaff put a warning hand on his arm. "Now, dear, don't you think that's a bit..."  
  
"No!" Mr. Tetzlaff exclaimed. "She's been lying to us for three years!"  
  
Tears filled Ronnie's eyes as she realized she _had_ lied to them, though it hadn't felt like it at the time. "I tried to leave him, honestly I did and..."  
  
Mr. Tetzlaff immediately looked concerned. "And what? He won't let you? He's trapped you in his web? Because if he is mistreating you, Veronica, just say the word and - "  
  
"No, no, Dad," Ronnie said quickly. "It's not like that at all..."  
  
"Then tell us what it _is_ like, Veronica," Mrs. Tetzlaff said anxiously.  
  
A tear slid down Ronnie's cheek. "I love him."  
  
Mr. Tetzlaff dropped his face into his hand. "Oh, _Veronica_."  
  
"What if he converted to the Catholic faith?" Ronnie asked hopefully. "Would you consider him then?"  
  
"Because that's just what we need," Mr. Tetzlaff muttered. "A devil in disguise."  
  
"It's not the same, Veronica," Mrs. Tetzlaff said sadly. "It's not the same as being raised in the faith."  
  
"This is my advice to you," Mr. Tetzlaff said as he raised his head. "Tell Mr. Deacon it's over. Spend some time with Mr. Feller and consider his offer. Or run away with Mr. Deacon and take this life that we've worked so hard to give you and throw it all away on a dream. The choice is yours, Veronica."  
  
Mrs. Tetzlaff burst into tears.  
  
Mr. Tetzlaff looked at his wife helplessly. "Darling, please..."  
  
"I hope you choose us, Veronica," Mrs. Tetzlaff cried as she dabbed uselessly at her eyes with her napkin. "You are our _only_ child and I can't tell you how much I'd hate to lose you to...to..."  
  
Ronnie stared at her mother in horror.  
  
"...to _him!"_ Mrs. Tetzlaff wailed, before pushing her chair back and running from the dining room.  
  
Feeling rather numb, Ronnie rose to her feet and bid her father goodnight, politely declining his offer of a ride home.  
  
Because she wasn't going home.  
  
Pulling on her jacket, Ronnie raced down the front steps and ran down the sidewalk, her father's voice still ringing in her ears.  
  
 _I think you have a very important choice to make tonight._  
  
Choice? _Choice?!_ It was barely a choice at all! In fact, it was painfully obvious that she would have to kiss John goodbye, before begging her parents' pardon and hoping they could forgive as well as forget. Because it was was entirely her own fault that she had gone and fallen in love with the quiet, young bass player from the disco, when her parents had warned her to stay away. When she had warned _herself_ to stay away.  
  
Ronnie didn't allow herself to stop and think too closely about what she had to do because if she did, she was afraid she would shatter into a thousand pieces. And so, she blinked back tears and turned in the direction of John's flat before she could change her mind.  
  
 _Clear head, calm mind,_ Ronnie told herself. _You have to be brave for John._ She had adorned her emotional armor, she was as ready as she would ever be, and...  
  
Ronnie stopped suddenly as an important realization dawned on her.  
  
John wasn't expecting this. John wouldn't be wearing any emotional armor. His would be unshielded and unprotected. He would never in his wildest dreams be expecting her to break his heart tonight.  
  
In fact, just last night they had been laughing together, and he had teased her lightly when she had failed yet another cooking lesson, and everything had seemed so perfect...  
  
Ronnie dropped her face into her hands. If she arrived at John's doorstep now and severed their relationship, she knew he wouldn't be able to mask his emotions. She knew he'd have an extraordinarily difficult time accepting it. And she, in turn, wouldn't be able to bear watching him try to control his anguish. Although it was true that time and time again John had acknowledged that he would eventually need to let her go, she could tell that pill was getting harder and harder for him to swallow the longer they were together.  
  
She had to spare him, if that was even possible. She had to make this as painless as she could, as impossible as that seemed.  
  
Turning, Ronnie hurried to her flat as thunder rumbled in the distance, deciding that she'd write him a letter and give _him_ the choice, she'd let _him_ control the level of pain he was willing to tolerate tonight. In her letter, she'd give him the option to say goodbye to her in person or, hold her letter close and stay away.  
  
But the sun was setting and the clouds in the sky were dark, practically black, and she knew she didn't have a lot of time.  
  
And so, Ronnie sat down and poured out her heart to John in a five page letter. She told him how her parents had seen them together, how they knew she had been lying to them for so long, about Jacob Feller's proposal, about the choice she had been forced to make.  
  
She begged him to understand her reasoning, she gently reminded him that they always knew this day would come, that they had been so lucky to have delayed it this far, that they had still spent almost three wonderful years together.  
  
Ronnie told him that she still wanted to be his friend. She wished him all the luck in the world and assured him that he'd find love again (though the very thought of it made her stomach burn with jealousy).  
  
And then she wrote that she would understand completely if he didn't want to see her again after reading this letter, if it would be too difficult to say goodbye to her in person. But, if he wished to, she'd be home tonight.  
  
She told him how much she loved him.  
  
And with a trembling hand, she prepared to sign _Ronnie_ at the letter's end but something made her stop.  
  
Ronnie? Honestly, who was she kidding?   
  
And with aching fingers, at the bottom of the page she scrawled,  
  
 _Veronica  
  
_ Because deep down, she was still Veronica - unadventurous and cautious Veronica - and always would be.  
  
\---  
  
Veronica almost didn't make it out of her flat, because the letter she had written had shone a devastating light on her entire situation and it had made her realize how distressed she truly was, and she had sunk to her knees at her front door and wondered how she was going to do this.  
  
But some sort of survival instinct forced her to her feet and she was able to get to John's flat, slip the letter under his door, and rush back home before the rain started. As she turned on the lamps in her flat and tried to find comfort in the soft glow, she heard the heavy fall of rain on the roof accompanying the eerie whistling of the wind and thought to herself that perhaps John wouldn't come out in this weather.  
  
But still, she waited with nervous anticipation and after two hours, Veronica finally gave up and changed into a pair of pajama pants and an old t-shirt as she planned out her evening.   
  
Turn on the television. Wrap herself in a blanket. Cry herself to sleep. If she could fit it into her busy schedule, perhaps she'd eat a cracker.  
  
It was only then, as Veronica was beginning to let herself fall into misery's arms, that there was a knock on her door. With a pounding heart, she rushed towards the door and bumped into an end table in her haste.  
  
 _Clear head, calm mind,_ she reminded herself again. _Be brave for him. Don't touch him. Make this as painless as possible.  
_  
Veronica opened the door just as a frightening clap of thunder shook the windowpanes and she found a hooded figure on her threshold. But her initial alarm faded when the figure removed their soaked hood and she saw it was only John.  
  
He held up a hand and she saw her folded letter tucked between the index and middle fingers of his right hand.  
  
So he had chosen pain, Veronica thought sadly to herself as she stepped aside to allow him into the flat. She then busied herself with closing the door, making sure it was shut tightly, and taking John's dripping wet raincoat and hanging it carefully on a hook.  
  
It was all to avoid looking at him, of course, and to put off the conversation she knew they must have. When she finally turned to face him, she recoiled.  
  
Because he looked _terrible._ His eyes were streaked with red, there were dark circles under his eyes, and his hair was a mess. His stare was intense, almost like he was afraid that if he took his eyes off her, she would disappear forever (which was sort of what she was trying to do, wasn't it?) His mouth was downturned in a frown of such fierce disappointment that Veronica found herself taking a small step back because she had never seen John look quite like this.  
  
She said nothing as she watched him lean his right shoulder into the wall, his arms folded, and after a few very long moments, he began to shake his head slowly.  
  
And as he shook his head, the fierce look slipped away as his face crumpled into sadness.  
  
"John," Veronica whispered in alarm, as she stepped forward and reached out to him, before remembering that touching him would only make it harder to say goodbye. She tucked her fingers into her armpits instead.  
  
"I just came because..." John took in a shuddering breath. "...I wanted to be the first to c-congratulate you on your en-engagement."  
  
Lightning flicked outside and Veronica slipped the fingers of her right hand out of her armpit and pressed her hand against her chest, because it sort of felt like the lightning bolt had slid underneath the window sill, sailed across the room, and pierced her directly in the heart.  
  
"I haven't said yes to him," she said quietly.  
  
"But you will," John said miserably.  
  
"But I don't want to."  
  
John looked away.  
  
"John, please," Veronica said desperately. "Please! I'm just as upset as you are, but we're only saying goodbye as lovers. John, we can still be _friends_."  
  
John let out a low, humorless laugh. "Friends? You honestly think so? Once you're married, I'll _never_ see you. He'll keep you away f-from me..."  
  
Thunder rumbled in the distance as the rain continued to pelt the roof.  
  
"I wouldn't let that happen," Veronica insisted.  
  
"It wouldn't m-matter," John said, his voice shaking. "You'll be so busy being husband and w-wife and..."  
  
Veronica shook her head, imploring him with her eyes not to go down that path.   
  
"...and I'll be thinking of you all the time, while he's t-touching you..." John ran a trembling finger down her cheek and across her jawline. "...and loving you and giving you everything that I can't..."  
  
"You have no reason to be jealous," Veronica said fiercely. "I will always love _you._ Only you. But John, I want you to move on..."  
  
Slowly, Veronica unclasped the chain she always wore around her neck and slipped an object off of it. Taking John's hand, she placed the object into his palm and folded his fingers over it, before pressing his fist against his heart.  
  
A flash of lightning showed John that Veronica had given him his ring back, the ring he had given to her the night Archibald had upset her, the night they had made plans for their first official date. And she had given it back to him in the same manner that he had given it to her - enclosed in a fist resting against a heart.  
  
John felt a lump in his throat as he tried to place it back in her hand. "No. I want you to keep it."  
  
Veronica shook her head and stepped away. "I can't, John. You need to hold onto it so that one day, you can give it to someone else."  
  
"That'll never happen," John said bitterly as he moved closer to her.  
  
Veronica found herself backing into the living room. "You can't live your life alone, John. You have so much love to give."  
  
"I don't w-want to give it to anyone else," John said unsteadily as he pursued her. "I don't _want_ to love anybody else!"  
  
Veronica grasped the front of John's shirt and sat him down on the sofa, before he could touch her. She knew if he so much as laid another finger on her, she'd lose any self-control that she still possessed.  
  
"John, I _beg_ you to understand," she said thickly, "that I was forced to make the most difficult decision I have ever made tonight. I wanted to choose you more than I've ever wanted anything in my entire life but I _couldn't._ I'm sure if you were forced to choose between me and your mother, you'd have chosen her."

John's face darkened. "But she would never make me choose in the first place."  
  
Veronica knew John's salty remark was not aimed at her, that it was merely a viscous stab at her parents, but it ripped her composure to shreds. She had tried to be so brave for him, to stay calm for him, but he had hit a nerve and reminded her how terribly unfair this all was.  
  
"Why did we ever decide to do this, John? Why did I say yes to you when you asked me to be yours? What were we _thinking?"  
_  
John stared at her.   
  
"I was supposed to find _myself_ during my year of independence and instead, I found _you!"  
_  
"You regret your time with...with me?" John asked flatly.  
  
Veronica leaned over, looked him directly in the eyes, and said in a very low voice, "You said one year of love was better than a lifetime alone, but you know what, John? You gave me almost three years of love, and now I'm going to have a lifetime of _heartache_."  
  
The lights went out then, drenching Veronica and John in darkness. Silence surrounded them as the storm raged on outside.  
  
And then Veronica felt John taking her hands and pulling her gently down to him. Throwing caution to the wind that was howling outside her window, she crawled onto his lap, threw her arms around him, and buried her face in his shoulder.  
  
"I will _never_ be sorry for that," John whispered defiantly into her ear. "You can't ever convince me that what we did was wrong."  
  
Veronica let out a tiny sob, which floated away into the darkness.   
  
They were silent for a long time as they listened to the thunder gradually intensify in sound and as the lightning flashed more frequently.  
  
"I won't ever regret it," Veronica said softly. "You gave me the happiest years of my life."  
  
As Veronica leaned away from him, to try to make out his face in the darkness, John's fingers crawled up his chest to rest over his aching heart.  
  
"John, promise me you won't isolate yourself," Veronica said firmly. "Promise me you'll meet someone else."  
  
"I can't promise you that," John answered.  
  
" _Promise_ me," Veronica whispered, leaning closer to him. "Promise me you won't be afraid to fall in love again."  
  
John was silent for a few moments, before he removed his hand from his heart and reached for her. He touched her face, brushing away a tear with his thumb, before letting his fingers trail down her neck.  
  
"Only if you promise me something in return," he said in a very quiet voice.  
  
"Name it."  
  
"That you'll let me love you one last time."  
  
Veronica inhaled sharply. "John, _no."  
_  
"Please, Ronnie."  
  
Veronica tried to unstraddle him but as thunder continued to rattle the windowpanes, John caught her waist.  
  
"Don't," Veronica said despairingly. "John, this will only make things more difficult."  
  
John pulled her closer, until they were chest to chest, heart to heart. "I don't think it can get any more difficult. Do you?"  
  
He was disarming her and he knew it. She fished around for some kind of mental weapon to defend herself with, before realizing she didn't really want to protect herself from him.  
  
As he pressed his forehead against hers, Veronica gripped his shoulders. "Under one condition."  
  
John waited.  
  
"Make me forget," Veronica whispered miserably.  
  
John nodded, before he slowly, painstakingly, pressed his lips against hers.  
  
And though John kept his promise, and Veronica forgot about everything that was troubling them at the time, she still found herself remembering many things about that night.  
  
Like how it stormed wildly outside while they came together and made a storm that was entirely their own. How it was not pretty, how it was so _raw_ and though it was still filled with love, it was love that had been set on fire.  
  
She recalled how directly after, the power came back on and still positioned on John's lap, she saw how red and swollen his lips were and knew that hers looked the same. How she had thought to herself that she would never, _ever_ be loved like that again. How she had completely disintegrated at that point and admitted that she didn't know _how_ to say goodbye to him.   
  
Veronica remembered how John had then tucked her into her bed and laid down beside her, assuring her that she wouldn't have to say goodbye, that he would be there until she fell asleep. How she _had_ eventually slept but had woken in the middle of the night to a soft noise and something wet on her face: tears, but they were not her own. How she had known then that John was trying to spare _her_ by saying goodbye to her before she awoke. How it was the first time she had ever heard John cry and she had tightened her arms around him and felt her heart crack open.  
  
And finally, Veronica remembered waking up alone, feeling as if her entire world had ended, and feeling a weight in her hand, she had opened her fist to see John's ring sitting in her palm.  
  
And for weeks after that night, she would remember how they had loved each other that night in order to prepare themselves to separate forever. But what they didn't know was that the result of that night would end up linking them together for always.  
  
 **November 1974**  
  
" _Excellent_ show, boys!" Brian exclaimed as they let themselves into their hotel room and Roger fell face first onto one of the beds.  
  
"They _loved_ us!" Freddie shouted triumphantly. "Did you see how they loved us!?"  
  
Roger groaned from the bed. "There were so many girls! Why did you make me come back here?"  
  
"Because you're too drunk to make healthy decisions," Brian said firmly.  
  
John quietly moved to the opposite bed and sat down as he removed his shoes.  
  
Freddie considered him thoughtfully. "Deaky? Would you like us to give you some privacy, darling?"  
  
John looked up. "That's all right. You've seen me remove my shoes before."  
  
Freddie grinned at that. Something was certainly ailing their bassist but it was a relief to know that he hadn't lost his sense of humor.  
  
"No, darling! So you can call the lovely Veronica!"  
  
John jumped slightly, as if he had been pinched, before his face slowly darkened.  
  
Freddie shrugged casually. "I know we've been so busy lately that you haven't had a chance to pick up a telephone..."  
  
"No, no," John said, averting his gaze. "There's no need."  
  
Brian and Freddie exchanged a look, as Roger slowly lifted his face from the mattress.  
  
"Is everything all right, John?" Brian asked kindly.  
  
John's fingers shook as he took off his watch. "Y-yes."  
  
Freddie sat down beside his friend and sang gently, "Liar. You're lying to me..."  
  
Brian rolled Roger aside to make room for himself on the bed.  
  
"Mama, I'm gonna be your slave," Roger sang to himself, before yawning.  
  
"What happened, darling?" Freddie asked John gently.  
  
John fixed his wide eyes on the bedside lamp. "We're not together anymore."  
  
"But...we bought you condoms," Roger protested, as if that explained everything.  
  
"Because that's the real glue of a relationship," Brian muttered sarcastically, before shaking his head.  
  
"Do you want them?" John asked Roger bluntly. "I have no use for them anymore."  
  
The room was silent, before Brian said very softly, "Deaky, why didn't you tell us?"  
  
"I didn't want to ruin the tour."  
  
"Ruin the tour?" Freddie exclaimed. "Every night you've been on fire out there, darling!"  
  
It was true. John wore his misery like a cloak but when he got on stage, he shed that cloak, leaving it rumpled and forgotten backstage, and played as if Ronnie were there in the audience, as if they were still together, as if she were actually his. As if his heart wasn't broken into tiny bite size pieces.  
  
And then, after the final encore, he would adorn his cloak of sadness once more. He had hoped the band hadn't noticed he had been quieter than usual in the past few weeks but...  
  
Freddie leaned forward and rummaged around in the drawer of the bedside table, before emerging with a pen, a few sheets of paper, and a Bible.  
  
He placed the Bible on Roger's stomach with an empathetic, "Here, darling, cleanse yourself of sin," before taking John by the arm and leading him to the bathroom.  
  
"When I'm upset," Freddie explained, "I turn my emotions into lyrics."   
  
He placed the paper and pen into John's hands. "It's very obvious that this is affecting you. Write it out, darling. See if it helps you. We'll be out here if you need us." And he gently pushed John into the bathroom and shut the door.  
  
With a sigh, John sunk to the floor and stared at the blank page. He didn't even know where to begin.  
  
After a few minutes, he emerged from the bathroom. His three bandmates looked up expectantly.  
  
"I...I can't," he whispered.  
  
"I can't either, Freddie," Roger said sleepily as he set aside the Bible.  
  
"Darling, it's only been five minutes," Freddie pointed out.  
  
"I don't know what to write," John admitted.  
  
"Write what you're feeling," Brian suggested.  
  
John was about to firmly state that he didn't _want_ to sort out how he was feeling, but Freddie put a gentle hand on his shoulder and ushered him back towards the bathroom.  
  
"Try writing your lyrics _to_ her," Freddie advised. "Sort of like a letter, if you will."   
  
And once John was tucked safely back in the bathroom, he shut the door and using his fingernail, locked it from the outside.  
  
"Freddie..." Brian began.  
  
"You can't do that, Freddie!" Roger interrupted, as he sat up in alarm. "What if there's a fire?"  
  
"Believe me, darlings," Freddie said sadly. "He's already burning in his own pit of love."  
  
\---  
  
Back on the bathroom floor, John closed his eyes and leaned his head against the wall. He was convinced that this wasn't going to work. In fact, he was sure it would make things infinitely worse.  
  
He pressed a hand against his heart as he thought of Ronnie and, opening his eyes, he suddenly saw her there before him.  
  
Of course, she wasn't really there, it was merely a manifestation of his anguish, but he didn't fight the image of her. Instead, he stared at her as she sat on the lip of the bathtub with her elbows propped on her knees. She leaned forward, as if she were listening intently to him try to write his song, and rested her chin in one of her hands. Her wild curls fell around her face as she smiled ever so gently at him.  
  
With shaking hands, John began to write.  
  
 _No I'll never look back in anger_  
 _No I'll never find me an answer_

Swallowing the lump in his throat, John looked up to make sure she was still there.   
  
She was.

_You promised me you'd keep in touch_   
_I read your letter and it hurt me so much_   
_I said I'd never, never be angry with you_

A tear fell onto the page and smudged the ink. John angrily wiped his eyes before glancing up at the vision of Ronnie once more.  
  
Still, she sat there and gazed at him with eyes that were brimming with love, with the most supportive of expressions. Slowly, she reached for the chain around her neck and untucking it from her shirt, she pressed his ring against her heart.  
  
And then his hand flew across the page.  
  
 _I must be strong so she won't know how much I miss her_  
 _I only hope as time goes on, I'll forget her_  
 _My body's aching_  
 _Can't sleep at night_  
 _I'm too exhausted to start a fight_  
  
One tear after another soaked into the page but now that John had started to write, he couldn't seem to get himself to stop.  
  
 _And if I see her with another guy_  
 _I'll eat my heart out 'cause I love her_  
  
John wondered to himself if she had accepted the Catholic young man's proposal of marriage yet. If she had actually said yes.

 _Love her_  
  
And if she had, if there was a wedding date planned.  
  
 _Love her_  
  
It wasn't even remotely fair, John thought wretchedly as he squeezed his eyes shut.  
  
 _LOVE HER_  
  
When he finally opened his eyes, John was kneeling in front of the bathtub and he was hugging the edge of the tub, where the vision of Ronnie had sat. But she was gone now and John hid his face in his arms. The sheet of paper, drenched with his tears, lay crumpled in the bathtub and he wasn't even sure where he had flung the pen; it was probably in the toilet.  
  
The words continued to come, but he kept them in his mind only, as the faintest hint of hope broke through his despair.  
  
 _Come on baby let's get together_  
 _I'll love you baby_  
 _I'll love you forever_  
  
It was then that he realized he could not live without her and if he could only be her friend, then he'd be the best friend she ever had.  
  
Splashing water on his face, John reigned in his emotions and twisted the doorknob...  
  
...only to find himself locked in. He banged on the door.  
  
"Did you write something?" Freddie's voice asked.  
  
"Yes," John sighed.  
  
"And do you feel better?"  
  
"Yes!"  
  
Freddie opened the door and pulled John into a hug. "It was for your own good, darling."  
  
The corner of John's mouth lifted slightly, and it was almost a smile, and as far as Freddie was convinced, that made it all worth it.  
  
Freddie looked at John's empty hands before asking suspiciously, "Where's your composition, darling?"  
  
"In the bathtub," John replied as he crawled into bed and turned to face the wall.  
  
After a few moments, he felt the bed sink beside him and someone poke him in the shoulder. Turning, John saw Roger.  
  
"Here you go, Deaky," he said, and handed him the Bible.  
  
Somehow, John knew that it was not a cheeky gesture on Roger's part. Somehow, he knew that it was Roger's way of comforting him because he knew that Bibles equaled religion and religion equaled Ronnie. John found his face slowly breaking into the tiniest of smiles.  
  
As Roger settled himself beside John and dreamed of all the women that Brian had deprived him of that night, John pressed the Bible to his chest and dreamed of Ronnie.  
  
 **The Next Morning**  
  
John cleared his throat. "Would it be all right if I...if I used the telephone?"  
  
His three bandmates looked at each other before...  
  
"Yes, yes, of course," Brian quickly rushed towards the bathroom. "I'm going to...bathe."  
  
"And I need to brush my teeth," Roger added, hot on Brian's heels.  
  
"And I need to supervise," Freddie said as he pushed them both into the bathroom and hastily shut the door.  
  
Sitting on the bed, John took a deep breathe and dialed Ronnie's number.   
  
From inside the bathroom, Brian, Roger, and Freddie each pressed an ear against the door and when they heard John's voice say _Hi Ronnie..._  
  
...they all simultaneously broke into matching grins.  
  
"Go get her, Deaky!" Roger exclaimed.  
  
"Thatta boy, Deaky," Brian agreed, in a much quieter voice.  
  
Freddie pressed an encouraging hand against the door. "That's it, darling."  
  
\---  
  
"John?" Veronica whispered in surprise as she pressed the telephone closer to her ear.  
  
"I just t-thought I'd call and see how..." John paused for a moment. "...how you're doing."  
  
Veronica thought about it. _Well, I patched things up with my parents and I'm focused very much on work right now although I haven't been feeling well and I've gone out a couple of times with Jacob Feller but there's honestly no point because all I can think about is you..._  
  
Instead, Veronica said quietly, "I'm fine. How's the tour going?"  
  
"It's going very well. We'll be home mid-December. And..."  
  
Veronica waited patiently for John to go on.  
  
"Well, I wanted to ask you if...if perhaps when I return, we could go out for...for coffee?"  
  
Veronica tried to squash the hope that was rising in her chest.  
  
"Just as f-friends, of course," John continued uncertainly.  
  
Veronica thought to herself that it would be easier not to see him at all, but she _had_ promised him they'd be friends. And that was honestly better than shutting him out of her life for good. Perhaps in time, they'd even get used to just being friends.  
  
"I'd like that," Veronica said and she found herself smiling into the phone.  
  
"I'll call you when I'm home," John said, his voice submerged in relief.  
  
"Have a good rest of the tour!" Veronica said enthusiastically and as she hung up, she found herself feeling better than she had in a long time.  
  
Except for the sudden lurch she felt in her stomach. Veronica groaned. She hadn't been feeling physically well but she had figured it was simply from the stress of ending her relationship with John.  
  
Stumbling to her feet, Veronica ran to the bathroom and falling to her knees in front of the toilet, she vomited.  
  
Just like she had every morning for the past three weeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. There's angst all over the place. There's italics all over the place.
> 
> Literally everything is infused with angst right now because of my impending milestone birthday (cries in a corner). After next Sunday, we can return to our regularly scheduled programming. :)


	8. Chapter 8

_The stained-glass curtain you're hiding behind_  
 _Never let's in the sun_  
  
 **Mid-December**  
 _ **(One Month After The Phone Call with John)  
**_  
It was very cold the night Veronica entirely lost control over her life.  
  
With a tired soul and aching feet, she stumbled on the sidewalk and as she found herself falling, she managed to grab onto a bench, but not before she scraped her knee against the unforgiving pavement. The impact tore apart the already thin and faded fabric of her jeans.  
  
Veronica let out an angry sob, before silencing herself.  
  
 _No,_ she reminded herself. _You can't cry. If you cry, that'll be the end.  
_  
She knew that if she cried now, she would never be able to stop. If she cried now, she'd have to face that fact that she was in more trouble than she could handle by herself, but that there was no one to turn to. If she cried now, she'd give up.  
  
Still hugging the bench, Veronica looked around and knew she was lost. She didn't recognize this part of town and she had been walking around London, drowning in her own miserable thoughts for hours, and hadn't paid any attention to where she was going.  
  
A church bell began to ring in the distance, the sound echoing through the icy air, and Veronica numbly listened and counted ten chimes. It was ten o'clock and it made no sense why she was here, astray in London, instead of in her warm, comfortable flat.  
  
But then again, nothing made sense anymore.  
  
It didn't make sense that she wasn't wearing a jacket when it was this cold out, it didn't make sense that she had walked around the city until burning blisters had formed on her toes. It didn't make sense that she was still crouching beside this bench on this rather unwelcome street and so late on a Friday night.  
  
For the first time all week, Veronica acknowledged to herself that she was not in her right mind and she further proved that to herself by folding her arms on the seat of the bench and resting her head on them. Her eyes found light, coming from an establishment on the corner down the street, where patrons were entering and exiting on a regular basis, while Veronica finally allowed her knees to rest on the ground and shivered, all alone.  
  
As a gentle snow began to fall, she thought about how the nightmare had started last Friday, exactly one week ago...  
  
 _"Good afternoon, Veronica."  
_  
 _Veronica looked up and offered a shy smile as the doctor entered the examination room.  
_  
 _"I see you're here for your annual physical," the doctor said as she flipped through Veronica's paperwork. "It seems all is well but you did mention you're concerned about some vomiting you've been experiencing lately."  
_  
 _"Yes," Veronica agreed, still feeling rather queasy from that morning's vomiting episode.  
_  
 _"Has the vomiting been accompanied by any fevers, chills, or other flu symptoms?" The doctor asked as she set aside the clipboard.  
_  
 _"No," Veronica answered.  
_  
 _"Have you had any diarrhea, constipation, or other gastrointestinal symptoms?"  
_  
 _"No."  
_  
 _"How often do you vomit?"  
_  
 _"Almost every morning," Veronica said, feeling her anxiety growing by the second.  
_  
 _The doctor looked at her meaningfully. "Is there any possibility that you might be pregnant?"  
_  
 _"No," Veronica answered immediately.  
_  
 _"None at all?"  
_  
 _"I...I don't think so."  
_  
 _The doctor reached for her clipboard. "Are you sexually active?"  
_  
 _Veronica's cheeks burned. "Not anymore."  
_  
 _"When was your last time?"  
_  
 _"October."  
_  
 _"Are you on the birth control pill?" The doctor asked.  
_  
 _"No but we were always...safe," Veronica said awkwardly.  
_  
 _The doctor looked at her sympathetically. "Even so, I think it's best that we check. We're going to need to take a urine sample and a blood sample."  
_  
 _And so, Veronica sat perched on top of the examination table and waited, while hoping desperately that the doctor would diagnosis her with food poisoning or influenza or a stomach ulcer. Because anything would be better than pregnancy. Anything would be better than disappointing her parents like that.  
_  
 _There was a sharp rap on the door before the doctor re-entered. Veronica straightened up and reminded herself that it was unlikely that pregnancy was the cause of her illness. John had always protected her._ Always. _  
_  
 _"Veronica," the doctor said carefully. "The results have come back and..."  
_  
 _Veronica pinched herself, to remind herself to breathe.  
_  
 _"...you_ are _pregnant."  
_  
 _Veronica's eyes widened as her heart plummeted somewhere into her stomach, where it most certainly didn't belong.  
_  
 _"What?" she asked stupidly.  
_  
 _"You're approximately six weeks along," the doctor confirmed. "I expect you'll be due sometime next July."  
_  
No! _Veronica thought frantically to herself._ No, no, no! _  
_  
 _And though she could barely hear anything over the screams in her own mind, she managed to stammer, "But it's not...it's not..."  
_  
 _"Possible?" The doctor finished for her. "Veronica, did you and your partner only use condoms?"  
_  
 _"Yes," Veronica whispered, trying to fight the panic that was welling up in her chest.  
_  
 _"Condoms are not one hundred percent effective at preventing pregnancies," the doctor explained. "They can break at times."  
_  
 _Veronica covered her mouth with her hand and stared out the tiny window as she tried not to burst into a fit of hysteric tears. How could she be so stupid, how could she be so...  
_  
 _The doctor put a comforting hand on Veronica's shoulder. "You do have options. And you have time. Talk to someone you trust. Keep in touch with us and regularly get yourself checked. I'd like to see you again next Friday for a full examination."  
_  
 _Veronica nodded numbly and put on her bravest face so that the doctor would leave her be.  
_  
 _At the door, the doctor turned back and gave her a reassuring smile. "It will be all right, Veronica."  
_  
 _Veronica tried to convince herself of exactly that as she walked herself home, armed with an assortment of hospital pamphlets on pregnancy. She told herself to remain calm, that there was really no reason to cry, that she had the entire weekend to figure out a solution to her problem...  
_  
Talk to someone you trust, the doctor had told her, and Veronica had spent the entire weekend that followed trying to decide who that someone should be. She spent all of Saturday and most of Sunday sobbing into her pillow and by Sunday evening, a decision had emerged from her tears.  
  
It's true that she could have accepted Jacob Feller's marriage proposal and passed the baby off on him, but that would have been dishonest to Jacob and disrespectful to John. And it's also true that she could have left London for nine months to carry out her pregnancy and the birth of the child anonymously, before giving the baby up for adoption, but she couldn't afford to give up her job and rent a flat so far from home.  
  
And so she decided the only thing she could do was tell her parents and hope they'd have mercy on her. They were the only ones in a position to give her any kind of help. Because telling John was absolutely out of the question.  
  
Still on the sidewalk, Veronica fell onto her left hip and tucked her legs underneath her as weariness caused her eyelids to sink halfway down her eyes and sorrow once more took her by the hand and transported her back to the past, to that Sunday night when she had decided she would need to tell her parents the truth. It was then that she had received a phone call...  
  
 _Sighing, Veronica rolled over, seriously considering ignoring the telephone altogether. After all, it wouldn't be her mother; she had already called her mother this morning to tell her she was too ill to attend church.  
  
Anxiety made her reach for the telephone and mutter into the receiver, "Hello?"  
_  
 _"Hi Ronnie."  
_  
 _Veronica sat upright in the bed she had barely left all weekend. "John?"  
_  
 _"We're home!" John said cheerfully. "We flew in from Spain last night."  
_  
 _Veronica had to force herself to speak.  
_  
 _"Oh," she said and winced at how raspy her voice sounded, after not actually speaking for two days. "Welcome h-home."  
_  
 _"Ronnie, are you all right?" John asked, his voice suddenly laced with concern.  
_  
No. _Veronica thought to herself._ No, I'm not all right. Because remember that night I was forced to say goodbye to you? And remember how we had loved each other one last time? Well, the protection we used was not able to withstand our anguish that night and now I'm pre...preg... _  
_  
 _Instead, she wiped away the tear that was inching towards her nose and said, "I'm fine."  
_  
 _"Could I still take you out for...for that cup of coffee?" John asked hopefully. "I'd love to tell you all about the tour."  
_  
 _Veronica closed her eyes, knowing she would have to disappoint him and tell him no, but not knowing how.  
_  
 _She couldn't see him in person because she would never be able to look him in the eye and_ not _tell him the terrible secret she was harboring. She would never be able to look him in the eye and lie. If she saw him, the truth would pour out of her in an ugly stream of tears and panic and perhaps a few obscenities that she had never uttered before._  
 _And the truth would hurt him.  
_  
 _The truth was that yes, she was carrying his child. But that child would never be his. And that would be very difficult for John to accept because of one evening, once upon a time, that he had admitted to her how much he wanted children of his own. And Veronica was positive that once her parents found out about the baby, she would be forced to give the child up for adoption.  
_  
 _And that's why John could never, ever know the truth.  
_  
 _"I'm...ehm...I've sort of been sick this weekend," Veronica said in a low voice. "I think perhaps it would be best if...if we waited."  
_  
 _"All...all right," John said uncertainly. "Perhaps next week then?"  
_  
No, no, _Veronica thought to herself._ That would never work because I'll still be pregnant next week. And the week after that. _And_ the week after that.  
  
 _"I can't...I can't do next week either," Veronica said, feeling her heart swell with guilt.  
_  
 _"Ronnie, tell me what's wrong," John said quietly.  
_  
 _"Nothing is wrong," Veronica said and winced because the lie was salty on her tongue. "I'm just not feeling very well."  
_  
 _There was a pause, before John asked, "Is there anything I can do? Perhaps I could bring you something?"  
_  
 _"No!" Veronica cried out before she could stop herself, because the thought of John appearing at her door was too much to bear.  
_  
 _There was a heavy silence from the other line. Though she couldn't actually see John at that moment, she knew him well enough to know that he was likely emotionally deflating at that very moment. She tried not to think of how his gaze would find the floor, and how he'd nervously tuck his hand between his thighs, and how he was probably biting his lip so hard it would leave a mark...  
_  
 _"No," Veronica said again, softening her voice. "I'll...I'll be in touch, John."  
_  
 _Yet another awkward silence, before...  
_  
 _"When?" John asked, clearly dispirited.  
_  
 _"When I can be."  
_  
 _"All right..." John whispered. "...goodnight, Ronnie."  
_  
 _Veronica squeezed her eyes shut as the disappointment in John's voice seeped into her soul.  
_  
 _"Goodnight, John..."  
_  
It was shortly after that phone call on Sunday night that Veronica had decided she had shed enough tears over her situation and that she wouldn't cry about it again. No good would come out of her continuing to feel sorry for herself. And so she returned to work on Monday and threw herself into providing exceptional care for the children during the week, while trying to ignore the fact that she was currently growing her own child. Then every night, she'd go back to her flat, try to eat dinner and fail, and crawl into bed early because at least in sleep, she could forget about her current predicament.  
  
She had almost lost her composure twice, both times that John had called and left her messages, but she caught herself each time and forced herself to rise above her situation and congratulated herself on not weeping for the entire week.  
  
Yet that emotionally successful week had led her here, to a dirty sidewalk on a Friday night and...  
  
A voice startled her from her miserable revelations. "Hi honey."  
  
Veronica felt her entire body stiffen, because she hadn't heard any footsteps approaching. Slowly, she lifted her head from her arms and looked up.  
  
\---  
  
What Veronica didn't know was that the establishment on the corner down the street from her was a bar and sitting inside on a barstool was John, lost in his own anguished thoughts.  
  
Though he was somewhere else mentally, he was still aware of the fact that he hadn't touched the drink Brian had placed in front of him, and that Brian was occasionally shooting worried glances his way.  
  
But John was too busy thinking about what had happened that afternoon, and the distressing news he had stumbled upon quite accidentally...  
  
 _John shoved his hands into his jacket pockets as he left his car behind and walked along the sidewalk, in the direction of a small store on the corner. Because the tour had taken him away for a good two months, his flat currently held nothing of nutritional value and he decided at the very least he needed to buy cheese and a loaf of bread.  
_  
 _Also, he was hoping this small outing would take his mind off of Ronnie, even if only for a few minutes.  
_  
 _John had not been watching where he was going and was yanked out of his thoughts when he collided with someone on the sidewalk. The powerful impact caused the person to drop the folder of documents they had been holding tightly against their chest.  
_  
 _"I'm so s-sorry," John stammered as the folder hit the pavement and scattered paper everywhere.  
_  
 _He immediately fell to his knees and began to gather what he could, but when he glanced up, his mouth fell open. The person he had bumped into was Ronnie, who was crouched down while she seized documents as quickly as she could and shoved them back into her file folder.  
_  
 _"Ronnie?" John said, unable to keep the hopeful note out of his voice.  
_  
 _Upon hearing his voice, Ronnie went completely still, before she slowly looked up. John had been expecting her to politely acknowledge him, perhaps even smile, and so he was fully unprepared for the look of horror that passed over her face.  
_  
 _She dropped her folder again.  
_  
 _As Ronnie reached for it, John caught her wrist. It didn't escape him that her body tensed completely at his touch as she uncomfortably looked away.  
_  
 _"Are you...are you feeling better?" John asked quietly.  
_  
 _"Yes," Ronnie lied, studying the ground carefully.  
_  
 _"You haven't returned my calls," John noted, trying to keep his voice neutral, though he was aware that a hint of sadness had still crept into it.  
_  
 _"I..." Ronnie tried to tug her hand away, but John held onto it tightly.  
_  
 _Ronnie bowed her head, her hair covering her face.  
_  
 _"Why w-won't you look at me?" John whispered.  
_  
 _And she did look at him then and he almost wished he hadn't asked. He released her wrist in shock as he took in her pale face, the dark crevices under eyes that were rimmed with red and filled with tears, and her overall gaunt appearance, as if she hadn't been eating. It looked like her light had gone out, like something had extinguished her flame, like she had given up hope.  
_  
 _Ronnie quickly took the small stack of papers that John had rescued from the sidewalk and as she got to her feet, she crammed them into her folder.  
_  
 _"Thank you," she muttered, before her face crumpled and she rushed away from him.  
_  
 _As John remained kneeling on the pavement, something fluttering in the breeze caught his attention, and he turned in time to see one lone piece of paper flatten itself against a brick building.  
_  
 _He scrambled to his feet and snatched it before it could blow away, but as he looked up, he saw that Ronnie was already gone. Even so, he scanned the paper to see if it belonged to her.  
_  
 _Sure enough, her name was printed neatly at the top, along with the name of a doctor, and John realized she must have been carrying her medical records on the way home from a doctor's appointment. Perhaps she really wasn't well, like she had told him on the phone...  
_  
 _The page mainly consisted of numbers - her vital signs, John guessed - but something at the bottom of the page caught John's eye.  
_  
 _Right above the doctor's signature was a single sentence that squeezed John's heart so tightly that he was surprised it didn't pop, like a balloon.  
_  
 ** _Last Friday patient reported for annual physical, tests performed, found patient is pregnant and due in summer of '75. Today's appointment was a full pelvic examination, no signs of abnormality; will refer to an obstetrician for routine care from this point forward.  
_**  
 _John slowly tore his eyes from the page and looked up, in the direction that Ronnie had gone in, and everything suddenly made sense. Her appearance, her silence, why she was avoiding him...  
_  
 _...she had clearly already moved on with her life, in a way that he never would be able to. She had accepted Jacob Feller's proposal and she was already pregnant with his child._  
 _And John had fully expected all of that to happen eventually, but not this quickly. Not two months after they'd parted ways.  
_  
 _Still grasping the paper with trembling fingers, John covered his eyes with his hand, the page shielding him from anyone passing by as he felt a terrible fire light up deep in the pit of his stomach.  
_  
 _He had_ warned _her that it would be difficult for them to be friends, he had_ warned _her that Jacob Feller would keep her away from him, he had_ warned _her that she'd be too busy for him.  
_  
 _John took in a shaky breath as he remembered how Ronnie had insisted that would never happen, but it actually_ had. _She had demonstrated it to him in the way she didn't return his phone calls, in the way she wouldn't make plans with him, in the way she couldn't even look him in the eye on the street.  
_  
 _She had promised him this wouldn't happen and now he knew he had been right, though he wished more than anything that he had been wrong. He was nothing but a fool. They'd never be friends. He'd never get to take her out for a cup of coffee.  
_  
 _Each of these distressing thoughts only fueled the fire in his belly, giving it more power, and slowly, ever so slowly, it roared as it climbed it's way up his rib cage and set his heart aflame.  
_  
 _John grasped his heart with trembling fingers as he felt it burn and in a strangled voice, he whispered, "I said I'd never, never be angry with you."  
_  
 _And then, forgetting about the store, he ran for his car...  
_  
It was at that point that John finally picked up his glass, drained it all at once, and slammed the glass down on the bar.  
  
Brian's mouth dropped open. He looked over his shoulder, at the door, and John knew he was wondering when Freddie and Roger would finally arrive to help him de-escalate the situation.  
  
But there was no one there, so Brian leaned forward and said in a low voice, "John...is it possible that Veronica's child is...yours?"  
  
John shook his head. "No. We were always c-careful."  
  
No, though he wished the child was his, it wasn't and it bothered John more than he cared to admit that Ronnie hadn't trusted him enough to tell him her big news.  
  
"Brian, I want to go home," John whispered miserably.  
  
Brian patted his arm reassuringly. "Soon."  
  
And so, with nothing else to do but sit and think, John allowed a pesky memory that had been tugging at his mind to finally surface and hit him directly in the heart...  
  
 _John scrawled his name on the covers of two separate Queen II records, before handing them back to two young boys._  
  
 _"There you are," he said with a friendly smile.  
_  
 _"Thank you, John!" They chimed in excitement, before rushing down the sidewalk to rejoin their parents.  
_  
 _"You're w-welcome," John said as he ducked his head shyly and waved. He still wasn't accustomed to attention from fans and sometimes he doubted he would ever get used to it.  
_  
 _Turning, John saw that Ronnie was smiling at him.  
_  
 _He felt his cheeks turn red as he said in a slightly alarmed voice, "What? Was it something I said?"  
_  
 _Ronnie linked her arm through his and pulled him in the opposite direction of the young Queen fans. "I was just thinking how one day, you'll have young children of your own. And how they're going to be so impressed that their dad is the bassist of Queen."  
_  
 _John lowered his head and stared at the ground. Ronnie stopped and put a hand on his shoulder.  
_  
 _"You don't want children?" she asked gently.  
_  
 _John didn't answer immediately. He felt Ronnie's eyes on him as he tried to snatch various thoughts about having a family of his own from the farthest corners of his mind and bring those thoughts altogether into a coherent sentence.  
_  
 _"No," John said finally, forcing himself to look up and meet Ronnie's curious gaze. "I_ do _want children. I...I want a big family more than anything."  
_  
 _Ronnie reached forward and touched his cheek gently.  
_  
 _"But I don't want children if I can't have them with you," John whispered and looking away, he took Ronnie's hand and guided her home...  
_  
Maybe that's why she didn't say anything about her pregnancy, John thought to himself and found his anger fading.  
  
He reminded himself that this was _Veronica._ His sweet, beautiful, compassionate Veronica. She couldn't have fallen out of love with him in only two months (at least he hoped not) and so, this news was probably just as hard for her as it was for him. Perhaps by not telling him, she was only hoping to spare him the pain of knowing that she was starting a family, but it wasn't with him.  
  
John rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably and stared into his empty glass, leaving Brian behind as he mentally drifted away again.  
  
\---  
  
Veronica blinked at the stranger in front of her and noticed how very pretty she was with her dark curls and carefully applied makeup. The front of her fur coat was unbuttoned, revealing a low cut black dress, and she was tall, but only because her red high heels made her so. She was smoking a cigarette.  
  
And though Veronica never liked to judge anyone before she truly knew them, she somehow knew that the woman in front of her was a prostitute.  
  
"You in some kinda trouble, honey?" The woman asked her.  
  
 _You have no idea,_ Veronica thought bitterly to herself as she thought back to only a few hours before, to the moment that had finally led her to fall apart when she had tried so hard not to. When she had met her parents for dinner...  
  
 _Veronica sat anxiously at the dining room table, waiting for the moment she could tell her parents the news that would change her family forever, the news that she had kept a secret for an entire week. She tried to flatten her anxiety by reminding herself that she was being strong, she was being smart, and she was going to get the help she needed.  
_  
 _"Veronica dear, you've barely touched your dinner," Mrs. Tetzlaff said, concerned.  
_  
 _"I haven't been feeling well," Veronica said quietly.  
_  
 _Mrs. Tetzlaff patted her daughter's hand and the dinner continued in silence until...  
_  
 _"Did you hear about the church secretary's daughter?" Mr. Tetzlaff asked conversationally.  
_  
 _"No," Mrs. Tetzlaff said, taking a delicate sip of water. "What about her, dear?"  
_  
 _"She's pregnant!" Mr. Tetzlaff announced scathingly. "And out of wedlock, too."  
_  
 _Veronica dropped her fork on the floor.  
_  
 _"Oh, darling," Mrs. Tetzlaff fussed as she got to her feet. "Let me get you another one."  
_  
 _"She's p-pregnant?" Veronica said in a voice barely above a whisper.  
_  
 _"Yes!" Mr. Tetzlaff exclaimed, as Mrs. Tetzlaff returned and placed a fresh fork next to Veronica's plate. "And her poor father is beside himself. She's brought shame upon him and her entire family. I can't even imagine."  
_  
 _Mrs. Tetzlaff shook her head sympathetically.  
_  
 _"And when he told me," Mr. Tetzlaff continued, "all I could think was, thank God it wasn't Veronica. Forgive me for saying it out loud Lord, but thank God it wasn't us."  
  
_  
 _Veronica wrapped an arm around her middle and doubled over.  
_  
 _"Veronica?" Her father asked, alarmed, as both he and her mother rose out of their seats.  
_  
 _Veronica held up a hand. "I'm f-fine. I'm all right. I just need to go home. I think I have a...a stomach bug."  
_  
 _"I'll get my keys," Mr. Tetzlaff said immediately.  
_  
 _"No, no," Veronica said quickly. "The fresh air will do me good."  
_  
 _And so, she bid her parents goodnight and rushed home to her apartment, though it wasn't a stomach sickness that had caused her to keel over in the dining room. It was the terrible realization that she couldn't tell her parents about the baby after all, the realization that she was, in fact, completely alone.  
_  
 _But once Veronica was home, she found she couldn't sit still. She felt like she was trapped in a locked room on the sinking ship she had once told John about. She felt like she was screaming at the top of her lungs but no one could hear her.  
_  
 _No one could help her now. Why hadn't she just taken a lifeboat when she had a chance?  
_  
 _And so, she had changed into an old, ratty pair of jeans that she couldn't even button because her belly was already growing, and an oversized black sweatshirt, and slipped into sneakers, not even bothering to put on socks. And then she had restlessly walked all over town, still refusing to cry but knowing she was lost, so very lost...  
_  
That's why she was here on the sidewalk, battered with bloody toes, underdressed for this freezing weather, her hair covered in snow, with the terrible lump in her throat practically strangling her...  
  
But she didn't tell the stranger any of this. Instead, she looked up at her with haunted eyes and pressed her hands against her belly.  
  
The woman blew cigarette smoke into the night as she stared at Veronica's stomach, before nodding. "I thought that might have been it. I've been there myself, love."  
  
"What did you do?" Veronica asked curiously.  
  
The woman dug around in her coat pocket, before pulling out a business card and handing it to Veronica. "This. Hopefully it helps you. Hang in there, honey." And with that being said, she was gone.  
  
Veronica squinted in the light of a lamp post and read the name of a man on the card. Directly underneath, it said _Abortionist_ , along with a phone number and an address.  
  
Horrified, Veronica covered her mouth with a hand. Yes, that would certainly solve all of her problems, but she couldn't even imagine...  
  
Surely, there must be other options, but at the moment, Veronica couldn't think of any. Still holding the small card between her fingers, she leaned forward and dropped her head into her hands as a wave of hopelessness crashed over her.  
  
\---  
  
At the threshold of the bar, Roger reached for Freddie's wrist and tugged him back onto the sidewalk.  
  
"Freddie, look."  
  
Aiming a suspicious look at Roger out of the corner of his eye, Freddie made an elaborate show of turning around and following Roger's finger.  
  
Four rather drunk men on bicycles rode by at that moment.  
  
"Very good, darling. You've discovered a bicycle race."  
  
 _"No,"_ Roger said, exasperated. "The girl! Over there. On the ground next to the bench."  
  
"Darling, you're here to spend quality time with _me,_ " Freddie protested. "You said no women until at least midnight, Rog!"  
  
Roger ignored him. "Isn't that Veronica?"  
  
Freddie squinted and took a closer look, before shaking his head. "I doubt it. For one, Veronica always looks so put together."  
  
Roger considered this with a thoughtful nod. The girl on the sidewalk was wearing tight, old jeans, with a hole in the knee, and a giant sweatshirt, and though her hair was the same color as Veronica's, it practically had a life of it's own, as if it hadn't seen a hairbrush in days.   
  
"And for two," Freddie continued. "I can't imagine her in this part of town by herself at this time of night."  
  
Roger took a few tentative steps towards the bench.  
  
"Roger!"  
  
Roger ignored his friend and crossing the street, he continued to creep towards the bench in a half crouch, his hands held out in front of him for balance and his fingers spread wide.  
  
Freddie sighed and ran a hand down his face. "He's going to frighten her away, the fucking goblin."  
  
But the girl was too busy hiding her face in her hands and did not notice Roger until he slowly knelt in front of her and poked her gently on the shoulder. As her head snapped up, a tiny white card dropped from between her fingers and fluttered to the ground, completely forgotten.  
  
It _was_ Veronica.  
  
Freddie's eyes widened as he realized how very serendipitous this moment was, because John was inside this bar, and Veronica had practically fallen out of the sky down the street from the very same bar, and perhaps it was possible to reverse all the melancholy these two lovers were experiencing.  
  
Freddie's mind turned back to just an hour before when he had received an urgent phone call from Brian who had said in a very low voice...  
  
 _Freddie, John just arrived at the studio in a miserable state, he looks absolutely wretched, and he won't talk - yes, I know he has a quiet nature but this is different, he simply won't speak, and he won't tell me what's happened to him, but...where are you and Roger, anyway? You're thirty minutes late!...fine, stay on the line, I'll ask him one more time...all right, Fred, I can be rather persuasive when I want to be and I've got it...he ran into Veronica and found out, quite by accident, that Veronica is pregnant...no, it's not his...yes, he's certain...now how should I know that, Freddie?...Veronica won't even talk to him...well, he's trying to be very brave but he can barely hold his bass upright, his fingers are shaking so badly..._  
  
To which Freddie had replied...  
  
 _Take him straight to the nearest bar, darling! Cancel the studio session, for the state of our dear Deaky's mentality is more important at this moment in time, and the music can wait, if just for tonight because if we don't mend Deaky tonight then we'll have lost him forever, I'm sure of it, and besides, he's already in enough pain, did you see the song he wrote in the hotel bathroom? Need Your Lovin' Tonight? It's bloody brilliant but it emerged right from the cracks of his broken heart and Brian, I mean it, go right to the bar, and I'll go fetch Roger, wherever he is, and we'll meet you there...but Brian, under no circumstances are you to let him leave and go home, do not let him be alone..._  
  
And with this phone conversation echoing in his mind, Freddie ran across the street to Veronica.  
  
\---  
  
Veronica wasn't sure how she had managed to bump into Roger and Freddie in this forsaken part of town but she had fought them tooth and nail when they had insisted she come into the bar with them, and she had seen in their eyes their shock at her appearance, at her lack of warm clothing, at her resistance...  
  
...and that's how she found herself sitting with Roger at a tiny corner table inside the corner bar, but she couldn't deny that the warmth seeping into her bones felt wonderful, as did the chance to take the weight off her aching feet. And at least she wasn't physically lost anymore, because Roger and Freddie knew where they were and would eventually take her home.  
  
She was still emotionally lost but that's something she could not share with them. Before entering the bar, she had made sure to tuck all of her raging emotions into her heart, and she had sealed it shut, and kept her face blank and her tone polite. Nobody else knew she was pregnant, besides her doctor, and nobody else could ever find out.  
  
Turning, Veronica saw Freddie pressing buttons on the jukebox on the back wall, but before her gaze could travel towards the bar, Roger cleared his throat importantly and as her attention was pulled back to him, he began to tell her all about his car.  
  
He was interrupted by the soft chords of a slow song filling the bar and Freddie appearing beside them.  
  
"May I have this dance, darling?" Freddie asked Veronica as he held out his hand to her.  
  
Veronica stared at his outstretched hand. "I don't think..."  
  
Freddie took her hand and gently helped her to her feet. "I know you have blisters on your toes, darling, and I assure you I want to hear all about them, but first we need to warm you up, your fingers are like icicles..."  
  
And sighing, Veronica allowed Freddie to lead her through the couples that were already swaying on the dance floor.   
  
\---  
  
As Freddie circled Veronica gently in time to the music, he thought about the hundreds of questions that he wanted to ask her on John's behalf. Of course, asking her was out of the question because he didn't want to scare her away and risk severing the already impossibly thin thread that was his Plan. He also didn't want to make her suspicious; she didn't know that John was there and he had to keep it that way for at least a few more moments. And so, he remained silent and allowed his gaze to travel to the corner table.  
  
Freddie watched as Roger pulled the tiny white card he had rescued from the snow (with the intention of giving it to Veronica later) out of his pocket and, squinting in the dim light, read it. He then looked over at Freddie with raised eyebrows and Freddie could practically see the question marks radiating from his eyes.  
  
Deciding it was time to put his Plan into action, Freddie tore his gaze away from an alarmed Roger and finding the bar, he crooked a finger at John.  
  
After receiving an encouraging pat on the shoulder from Brian, John slid off his barstool and slowly made his way to the dance floor. Freddie decided this was progress, since John had initially outright refused to take part in this Plan. He hadn't been expecting Freddie to walk through the door of the bar with Veronica, and he had tried to stop Freddie from fraternizing with the jukebox, believing that forcing Veronica to dance with him without her expecting it would make things worse.  
  
Yet here Deaky was, determined but nervous, as he stood behind Veronica and waited.  
  
"It appears someone would like to cut in," Freddie said lightly as he turned Veronica around to face John.  
  
With a sharp inhalation, Veronica immediately stepped back and bumped into Freddie's chest. Spinning around, she tried to leave but only succeeded in placing herself back in Freddie's arms.  
  
John looked at him helplessly.  
  
Freddie couldn't deny that Veronica's resistance was palpable, and though he regretted making her feel so uncomfortable, he knew that ultimately, this was for the best. Hoping she would thank him one day, he turned her back to John and, from behind her, Freddie linked his fingers through hers.   
  
And, with their hands connected like that, he placed Veronica's left hand on John's shoulder, and her right hand in John's.   
  
Knowing she would likely run, and trample John's heart in the process, Freddie kept his fingers entwined with hers in order to keep her in that position. She was literally a hostage of the dance, caught between the two members of Queen, with John holding her from the front and Freddie holding her from behind. If anyone had glanced at them quickly enough, they would have just seen John and Freddie dancing together and no one would have imagined Veronica was drowning in the middle. They wouldn't have realized that Freddie was merely acting as her shadow.  
  
And so, the three of them swayed together, Veronica's right hand tucked firmly between John and Freddie's hands, and it was _almost_ a success, except for the fact that Veronica wouldn't look at John. Though he couldn't see her face, Freddie could tell by the tilt of her head that she was looking down.  
  
As the first slow song ended and melted into the beginning chords of a second slow song, Freddie unlinked his fingers from hers and using his thumb, gently lifted her head so that she was staring directly into John's eyes.  
  
And, trusting that John could handle the rest because Roger was slowly having a fit in the corner, Freddie slipped off the dance floor.  
  
"She's hiding something from him," Freddie said bluntly as he sat down at the table. "That's the only feasible reason why she won't even meet him for a harmless cup of coffee."  
  
"We have worse problems than a bloody cup of coffee, Freddie," Roger huffed as he slapped the white card on the table in front of Freddie. A car passed by the window at that moment and it's headlights showed Freddie the unfamiliar name of a man and the word _Abortionist._  
  
Freddie covered his face with his hand. "Fuck!"  
  
"Fuck is right," Roger muttered.  
  
"You know what this means, don't you, Roger?"  
  
"I think so, but go on."  
  
"It means the baby she is carrying is _Deaky's._ "  
  
Roger furrowed his brow. "Deaky said it's not his."  
  
"Think about it, darling! If the baby belonged to the bloke she's supposedly engaged to, like John believes, she wouldn't have any cause to be rid of it. But if the baby was unplanned, if it was going to get her into trouble..."  
  
Roger's eyes widened.   
  
Freddie looked around wildly. "We need to call Brian over. We need to bring in an expert."  
  
Roger wrinkled his nose. "An expert? On what?"  
  
"On human nature, darling."  
  
\---  
  
The moment Freddie left, John was afraid that Veronica would leave too, but to his great astonishment, she didn't. She stayed exactly where she was and allowed her hand to rest gently in his, allowed his arm to remain loosely circled around her waist.  
  
The gaze that she had leveled at him was clear and calm, but slowly, ever so slowly, something began to cloud her stare, even though he could see she was trying to fight it. He looked down at her and watched her internally wrestle with her own tangled emotions, the battle so obvious in her eyes, and the outcome was a single tear which ran swiftly down her cheek.  
  
Veronica looked away but John squeezed her hand and she reluctantly looked back at him.  
  
Very carefully, he pulled her closer, closing the gap between them. Letting go of her hand, he put both arms around her and whispered into her ear, "It's only me, Ronnie."  
  
He could sense Veronica trying to at least stick her arse out so that their stomachs weren't touching, but with a firm palm against her tailbone, John pushed her back to him, effectively pressing his belly against hers.  
  
"You don't have to hide from me," he reminded her quietly as he leaned his cheek against hers and hoped she would somehow grasp his meaning and know that she could tell him anything.   
  
Like the fact that she was pregnant.  
  
But as John felt the new swell of her belly against his own, he thought bitterly to himself how he would give everything he had to be Jacob Feller.  
  
\---  
  
She was so close to giving in.  
  
As John held her close, Veronica thought to herself how she could end her misery right here and right now and tell John the truth.  
  
Without even having to look at him, she could whisper into his ear and she could say...  
  
 _John! Oh, John. I'm in so much trouble. I don't know what to do, I don't know where to turn. And I didn't want to involve you, I've only been avoiding you to protect you from what I'm going through, but I need you so much right now..._  
  
But instead of saying all of that, Veronica circled her arms around John and, half delirious with sorrow, she buried her face into his shoulder.  
  
She was grateful that no one could hear her over the music, but she was sure John could tell she was crying. How could he not know, with the way her body was violently shaking against his, with the way that her tears were soaking into his t-shirt and causing the fabric to cling to his skin?   
  
Yes, he most certainly knew, Veronica thought to herself as she felt him hold her fiercely and plant a long, gentle kiss on the top of her head, as if hoping it would tear her from misery's arms and ground her in some way.  
  
Surrounded by the magic of Led Zeppelin (if she remembered correctly, she believed the song was titled "Thank You") and the safety that was John, Veronica felt herself begin to calm down and, allowing the tears on her face to air dry, she rested her cheek on John's shoulder as her eyes found the corner table. She watched curiously as Freddie waved at somebody across the room, a very familiar little white business card in his hand...  
  
Veronica realized then that she didn't remember putting the abortionist's business card into her pocket and as this realization made her lift her head from John's shoulder, Roger looked over at her. Their eyes met and there was something very sympathetic about his gaze, and the uncharacteristic worry lining his face...  
  
 _They know,_ Veronica thought to herself in alarm.  
  
And just like that, the calm spell that John had weaved around her vanished. What had she been _thinking?_ Of course she couldn't tell John! If she told John, he would never leave her side, they'd be forced to run away and raise the baby in silence because her parents would shun her and kill John if they even so much as suspected what they had done together.  
  
But the only other course of action was telling her parents and witnessing their shame and their crushing disappointment, likely being forced to stay out of public for the next seven months, having to give the baby away and after all of that, never, _ever_ being forgiven.  
  
It was sort of like being forced to choose between her parents and John all over again and the thought filled her with a burning anger until she remembered the little card in Freddie's hands...  
  
Veronica reminded herself, _They know I'm pregnant..._  
  
She was aware that John was watching her as she slowly withdrew from him while still staring at the corner table, and she was aware that his hands were resting on her hips, and his thumbs were close - too close - to her pregnant belly.  
  
 _...and that means eventually, John will know, too._  
  
And that was unacceptable. As the last few notes of the song faded away, Veronica wrenched herself away from John and ran for the door, which was being blocked by two familiar and unwelcome individuals.  
  
"Well, well," said the first man, his voice as eerily calm as ever. "If it isn't our favorite little angel, Miss Tetzlaff."  
  
"What's the hurry?" asked the second man - the one out of John's old group of friends who always liked to antagonize her the most - as he leered at her. "It's not quite midnight, you won't turn into a pumpkin yet, sweetheart."  
  
"Let me through!" Veronica shouted at them over the beat of a loud rock song that had just begun.  
  
"And let our old friend John down?" The second man asked with mock surprise. "When he's trying so hard to get to you?"  
  
Veronica turned and saw John desperately weaving through people to try to get to her, while Roger and Freddie were trying to navigate their way through a sea of tables and chairs.  
  
With a cry of outrage, Veronica left John's ex-friends and ran around the bar, just as John skidded to a stop at the door. But before he could follow her, the first man clamped a hand on his arm, effectively stopping him from going any further.  
  
"What did I tell you?" the young man said in a low, condescending voice. "All those years ago I told you not to even look at her, John. And you still left us behind for her! I _knew_ something like this would happen."  
  
John pushed him away fiercely. "You know _nothing!_ " he hissed as he caught a glimpse of Veronica's wild hair before she turned a corner.  
  
Brian appeared at that moment and grasped the young man's wrist, freeing John so that he could run after Veronica.  
  
"Let go of me!" the man warned. The second man lunged at Brian, but was shoved aside by an irate Roger, who had finally arrived at the front door.  
  
"It appears you're blocking a fire entrance," Brian said smoothly, as he twisted the man's wrist at an unnatural angle, "and that is socially unacceptable, not to mention very dangerous, silly you."  
  
"In other words, fuck off and enjoy your evening, darling," Freddie growled as he seized the man's shirt and tossed him into the second man. They both fell over a table.  
  
"Go," Brian said urgently as he pushed Roger and Freddie out the front door. "There may be a back door, so watch for her in the alleyways. I'll stay here in case she comes back."  
  
Freddie pressed a small white business card into Brian's hand before following Roger down the street.  
  
And as they disappeared, Brian hoped desperately to himself that Veronica _would_ come back.  
  
\---  
  
"No!" Veronica whispered to herself as she turned down a small hallway and found herself at a dead end. A random flight of stairs had led her down here to the basement and now she was trapped. From above her, she heard footsteps thundering down the stairs and knew that one of the members of Queen was about to discover her.  
  
As she assessed the small hallway, Veronica found a small, narrow door with a crooked, faded sign that said _Ladies Only_. As the footsteps approached, Veronica pushed open the door without hesitating and found herself in a small restroom.  
  
She ran her hands down the door, looking for a lock and upon finding none, she hoped the lopsided sign on the door that said _Ladies Only_ would stop John from entering. But only moments later there was a knock on the door and Veronica doubted that sign would be enough to keep him out.  
  
Looking around frantically, Veronica found a window, but let out a sigh of frustration when she saw it was situated high on the wall, up near the ceiling. For the second time in the span of sixty seconds she wondered _why_ had she chosen the basement as a refuge.  
  
"Ronnie," John's voice pleaded from the other side of the door. "Ronnie, please come out."  
  
Grasping the side of the bathroom stall for leverage, Veronica climbed onto the porcelain bathroom sink and prayed it would hold her weight. Reaching up, she unlatched the window and pushed it open. A gust of cold air hit her in the face.  
  
"Ronnie, _please!"_  
  
Without answering and without giving herself too much time to think about what she was doing, Veronica grasped the ledge and hoisted herself up to the window. She was able to get half of her body through the opening before she found she couldn't go any further.  
  
"No!" she whispered into the frigid night air. _No, please, no!_  
  
She should have known! She should have known she wouldn't have fit through the window with her newly round belly, especially since she couldn't even button her jeans a few hours ago. But then again, this was all madness and she had, without a doubt, gone slightly mad.  
  
"Ronnie, I'm coming in," John's voice warned, just as Veronica heard the beautiful sound of someone strumming an acoustic guitar from somewhere up above her head.   
  
Digging her fingers into the snow, Veronica gritted her teeth and pulled herself forward, towards the invisible chords raining down from the sky. She tugged her body out very, very gently just as she heard John entering the women's restroom.  
  
Veronica crawled away from the window and tucked her cold, wet fingers under her armpits. She knew she only had a few moments before John launched himself onto the sink and through the window, but she needed a moment to catch her breath before she had to run again.  
  
The music from above stopped and Veronica looked up curiously as she heard a husky female voice with an American accent say, "All right, Mick, that's the bridge of the song. Do you think you can sing it back to me?"  
  
John's hands appeared at the window as his long fingers grasped the ledge and though Veronica tried to rise to her feet, she cried out as her full weight was placed on the agonizing blisters on her toes. She sunk back into the snow.  
  
"I'll give it a try, Stevie," a male British voice answered, and someone began to strum the acoustic guitar again. A haunting melody drifted from a third floor window.  
  
It took John practically no time to drag his thin frame through the window. As he rose to his knees, Veronica threw out her arm and held out her hand, forcing him to stay where he was.  
  
"Don't!" she said over the soft music. "Please don't come any closer."  
  
John stared at her before he got to his feet and reached out to her.  
  
Alarm surged through Veronica at the thought of John coming any closer because she knew if he touched her again, she would tell him everything.  
  
"Stay where you are!" she found herself yelling and shocked by her tone, John dropped back down onto his knees just as a soft male voice added words to the music that was already caressing them both with gentle fingers.  
  
 _Time cast a spell on you but you won't forget me_  
  
Almost as if he was fueled by the music, John lifted his head and stared at her intensely from under his eyebrows. Veronica watched as a fire ignited in his eyes.

"Fine," he said in a calm voice, though his eyes continued to burn her. "Run away again."  
  
 _I know I could have loved you but you would not let me_

Thoroughly unnerved, Veronica crouched low as she tentatively put weight on her feet, preparing herself to run.  
  
 _I'll follow you down 'til the sound of my voice will haunt you_  
  
"But you can't hide," John continued unsteadily. "I will f-find you. I will always be your friend even if you don't want to be m-mine."

_You'll never get away from the sound of the man that loves you_

And just like that, the flames in John's eyes were extinguished as a tear ran down each of his cheeks.  
  
"He said it best, didn't he?" he said bitterly as he nodded up at the third story window, where the music had stopped, leaving them surrounded by ghostly silence.

Veronica shook her head as she squeezed her eyes shut and felt John's pain, almost as if it had managed to detach itself from him and crawl through the snow to shock her to her very core. It took everything she had not to run to him, not to fall to her knees and hug him tightly and remind him that he was her _best_ friend.  
  
She told herself to say something to him, _anything._ But instead, she rose and, ignoring the pain in her feet, she ran, leaving John kneeling in the snow as the sound of singing once more floated from the window to mingle in the air with dense snowflakes.  
  
As she turned down a dark alleyway, Veronica thought to herself how John had just managed to remind her that she was loved, when it really would have been easier to not have been loved at all. And as she ran, the female voice echoed in her ear.  
  
 _Never get away, never get away, never get away..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter to go!
> 
> Disclaimer: The song at the end is "Silver Springs" by Fleetwood Mac.


	9. Chapter 9

_You know that only the good die young_  
  
 **The Very Same Evening**  
  
Veronica was forced to stop running when an icy patch of pavement sent her sliding into the nearest brick wall.  
  
Groaning, she pressed her palms against the cold brick and closed her eyes and...  
  
...saw John.  
  
Though she tried not to, she saw John clearly as he knelt in the snow. She saw his eyes pleading with her, she could hear the frustration in his voice, she could practically taste his tears, his loneliness...  
  
And she had left him there all alone to dry his own eyes, to try to make sense of her actions, to try to move on without her.  
  
She firmly reminded herself that she had done that for a reason. She had done it all so that he would never learn the heart wrenching truth, so that he'd never know what he was losing. She had run away to protect him.   
  
_Were you really doing it to protect him?_ A voice in her head challenged her. _Or are you just trying to protect yourself?_  
  
An overwhelming feeling of guilt washed over Veronica and an ache settled in her chest as she felt her body began to shake, but she wasn't sure if it was from the cold weather or from sheer anxiety.  
  
Practically pleading with her own mind, Veronica thought about how she was only trying to do the right thing by pushing John away, but she also acknowledged that she had been so wrapped up in her own misery that she had viewed the pregnancy as her problem and hers alone, when it actually took two people to create a baby. She hadn't done this by herself.  
  
As the snow began to fall more heavily, Veronica looked back the way she had come and wondered if she should go back to him, if there was still time to make this right. An unreasonable fear took hold of her as she realized that because of what she had just done, she could eventually begin to lose John forever.  
  
 _No,_ a voice reminded her. _No, that's not true. He said he'd always be your friend. He said he'd find you._  
  
Turning from the wall, Veronica found herself worrying that John wouldn't bother to come looking for her, before a new concern slowly invaded her poor mind and she wondered...what if he _did?_ What if he kept his promise and she had to look into those sad eyes again? What if, at any moment now, he turned the corner and...  
  
...no, no, it was much better that he left her alone, she simply couldn't bear his touch and the sound of his voice and his close proximity, knowing she was keeping such important and life changing information from him but...  
  
...perhaps he would come, perhaps he wouldn't give up on her, and honestly that would give her so much hope, and really, she was rather impatient, perhaps she should go back and put herself somewhere where he'd have no choice but to find her and...  
  
...but no, that would be unthinkable, that would be uncomfortable, that would be unbearable, it would really be better to move on and find a solution to her problem herself, to let him go, as difficult as that was proving to be...  
  
Veronica twisted her fingers in her hair and leaning her back against the wall, she slid to the ground as she tried not to scream, though she wanted to more than anything because she was so indecisive, and so hormonal, and so emotional, and so heartbroken, and so worried, and...  
  
... _pregnant._ She was so undeniably pregnant.  
  
And so alone!  
  
Veronica wrapped her arms around herself but the violent trembling continued as she felt her heart rate speed up and a surge of overwhelming panic course through her body. She opened her mouth to take a deep breath and found that deep breath wouldn't come. The only thing that would come to her was despair and it invaded her mind mercilessly as she thought to herself that there really was no help for her after all.  
  
So this was what it felt like to finally lose control...  
  
She was so consumed by this fit of distress that the footsteps pounding against the pavement towards her really didn't matter much. No, it didn't even matter when she felt firm hands grasping her arms and a hand against her cheek...  
  
"Veronica! Veronica, darling, can you hear me?"  
  
Veronica opened her mouth, not to answer but to try to breathe deeply again, and found herself gasping.  
  
"Roger," Freddie's voice said in alarm. "Roger, go get Brian. And hurry, darling!"  
  
\---  
  
John climbed down from the small window in the women's restroom and as his feet hit the floor, his knees buckled under the crushing weight of his own sadness. Grasping the sink, he squeezed his eyes shut and warned himself not to fall apart.   
  
_Please,_ he implored the tears that were burning the back of his throat. _Just another hour. Wait until I can get myself home._  
  
Taking a deep breath, John finally forced himself to the door. Opening it, he came face to face with a woman in a low cut black dress.  
  
His cheeks burned red as he realized he had just been caught in a place he had no right to be in. "I'm s-sorry," he mumbled and tried to inch past her.  
  
The woman thrust out an arm, blocking the doorway. John lowered his eyes, avoiding her stare, and allowed his gaze to rest upon her red high heels.  
  
"You looking for a good time, honey?" she asked in a husky voice.  
  
"N-no," John said in a nervous, yet polite, voice. "Please let me pass."  
  
The woman's seductive smile disappeared as she scanned John's face. Unnerved by her silence, John uncomfortably looked up at her sympathetic expression before looking over his shoulder, into the mirror, and seeing the wet trail from a long ago vanished tear on his cheek. Angrily, he wiped it away.  
  
"Then what are you doing here?" the woman asked, not unkindly, as she nodded towards the crooked sign that said _Ladies' Room_.  
  
"I'm lost," John whispered, before gently pushing her arm aside and hurrying past her.  
  
And as John dragged himself up the stairs, he thought to himself how that hadn't been a lie. He'd never felt so lost in his entire life. And as he made his way through the crowds of deliriously happy, drunk people, he was amazed that his misery didn't infect them all, like a terrible black plague.  
  
He was intercepted at the front door by Brian, who quickly tucked a white business card he had been studying into his pocket and asked quietly, "John, what happened?"  
  
John stared out the window at the swirling snow, wishing the wind would blow his crushing misery away with the snowflakes.  
  
"John..."   
  
The top of John's lip curled into a soft, uncharacteristic sneer. "I grew up. That's what happened."  
  
And pushing past Brian, he wrenched open the door to the bar with every intention of disappearing, but collided with Roger instead.   
  
As he rubbed his sore cheek where it had made contact with Roger's face, Roger grasped his arm and began to pull him down the sidewalk.  
  
"You both need to come with me _right now!_ " He exclaimed and without any further explanation, he released John, who was being awfully resistant, and hurried away.  
  
John and Brian looked at each other.  
  
"Well _come on!"_ Roger shouted as he stopped and looked over his shoulder. "Do you want to save Veronica or not?"  
  
Roger's words sent a chill down John's spine and he was grateful when Brian took charge by putting a hand on his shoulder and propelling him forward. Down the slippery sidewalk they rushed and around the corner until they were standing in a dark alleyway that was quickly filling with snow.  
  
Brian quickly left John behind as he rushed to Veronica, who was on the ground, leaning against a brick wall. He took one look at her, as well as a tentative glance back at John, before dropping to his knees and whispering something into Freddie's ear.  
  
John stepped forward but Freddie jumped up and rushed towards him with his hands outstretched.  
  
"Carefully, darling," Freddie warned. "We don't want to startle her."  
  
"What's wrong with her?" John asked fearfully, not able to take his eyes off her.  
  
"Brian thinks she's having an anxiety attack," Freddie explained in a low voice.   
  
"How would he know that?" Roger asked doubtfully. "Is he an astro-psychiatrist, as well?"  
  
"You think you're being funny, Roger," Brian said in a calm voice, "but psychological astrology is a real thing. It's the result of the cross-fertilization of the fields of astrology with depth, humanistic, and transpersonal psychology."  
  
And ignoring Roger's bewildered expression, Brian studied Veronica carefully and said in a voice that was firm, yet very soft at the same time, "Veronica..."  
  
Veronica's free hand grasped her heart and she tried to take in a deep breath, before failing and turning her head away with a pitiful sob.  
  
A protective instinct surged through John and, completely forgetting that Veronica had warned him to stay away from her, he lunged forward.  
  
Freddie caught him before he could get too close to her.  
  
"Please Freddie," John whispered. "Let me go to her."  
  
"I can't," Freddie said regretfully. "At least, not yet, darling. Brian said we can't approach."  
  
"Did he?" John asked quietly. "Or did he say that _I_ can't approach?"  
  
Freddie tightened his hold on the bassist and said sympathetically, "He doesn't want anything to trigger her, that's all."  
  
"As in, he doesn't want you to fire her love gun, Deaky," Roger said as he crossed his arms and leaned against the wall.  
  
"Not _that_ kind of trigger, Roger!" Freddie admonished.  
  
"The love gun being her _heart!_ It's a metaphor, Freddie!"

Freddie raised his eyebrows. "Very poetic of you, darling."  
  
Feeling utterly defeated, John leaned his cheek against Freddie's shoulder and watched as Brian placed a gentle finger under Veronica's chin and turned her face so that she was looking at him. He then peered into her eyes carefully and taking her hand away from her chest, he put two fingers against her wrist.  
  
"Her heart rate is out of control," Brian muttered to himself, before he grasped Veronica's arms. "Veronica, we're going to get you someplace safe. You're having an anxiety attack."  
  
As Brian effortlessly lifted Veronica into his arms, Roger said suspiciously, "Honestly though, how did you know that?"  
  
Brian's eyes darkened. "Because I've been there myself."  
  
Roger raised his eyebrows and it was obvious that Brian's confession had surprised him into silence. He merely nodded as he struggled with the new sensation of a blank mind, void of any kind of remarks, and obediently followed Brian to the van.  
  
Freddie turned a listless John around and sheparded him after the others. But upon arrival at Brian's van, John stepped back.  
  
"I should go," he whispered.  
  
"Deaky!" Freddie exclaimed softly. "A few minutes ago I could barely keep you away from Veronica and now you want to leave?"  
  
"Brian's right," John said sadly. "I'll only trigger her. I'll take a cab home."  
  
"Don't be ridiculous!" Freddie retorted. "We're not leaving you to fend for yourself in this Godforsaken part of town! What if one of the prostitutes gets you, darling? I'd never forgive myself!"  
  
And before John could utter another word, Freddie pushed him gently into the passenger seat and buckled his seat belt, as if it were a shackle that could hold John captive in the vehicle.  
  
"I'm going to need to drive," Brian said after he had settled Veronica comfortably in the backseat. "Freddie, Roger, I need you to try to keep her calm while I talk to her from the front seat."  
  
"Why can't one of us drive?" Roger asked.  
  
"Because Freddie doesn't have a driver's license," Brian answered. "And John is distracted. And you..."  
  
He stared at Roger, before shaking his head. "You belong in the backseat."  
  
Roger bristled at that, before deciding that the backseat was the far more important place to be because Veronica was there. _So take that, Brian!_  
  
"All right, Veronica," Brian said as he slid into the driver's seat, started the engine, and turned the heat up as high as it would go. "Tell us what you need from us."  
  
"I need you to not take me to the hospital," Veronica pleaded. "Please."  
  
"But darling, your condi-" Freddie began.  
  
"If you can help us calm you, we won't have to," Brian interrupted loudly, while sending Freddie a warning look in the rearview mirror that was meant to remind him that as far as Veronica was concerned, no one knew her secret.   
  
Brian then softened his voice. "But you need to fight this, Veronica."  
  
Veronica nodded but she continued to tremble.  
  
"Close your eyes," Brian instructed as he pulled out onto the road.  
  
Veronica leaned her head against the seat and obeyed.  
  
"Now," Brian said, "we're all going to breath together and we're going to count backward from 10."  
  
"Shouldn't we count back from '39?" Roger asked.  
  
"Why?" Brian demanded, the seriousness of the situation making him momentarily forget about the new song he had recently shared with the band.  
  
Roger huffed at Brian's tone, while Freddie offered, "Because 10 is boring, darling!"  
  
And so, that's exactly what they did. As Brian directed them when to breathe in and when to breathe out, and John hunched down in the passenger seat and hid from Veronica, Freddie and Roger took turns counting backwards from 39.   
  
By the time they reached the number one, Veronica was breathing normally and her heart rate had dropped considerably. She yawned as physical and emotional exhaustion, along with the warmth that filled the van, mingled together and slowly began to drag her eyelids down.  
  
As she drifted into a soft sleep, John covered his eyes with his hand and struggled to understand what had happened to her. In the three years he'd known her...in the three years he'd _loved_ her...she'd never suffered from anxiety. She had always been calm and optimistic; if anything, she'd pulled _him_ from the depths of anxiety more times than he could count. But perhaps her separation from him, as well as her new life with Jacob Feller and her pregnancy, had taken a terrible toll on her nerves...  
  
He had never seen her so unhappy.  
  
Freddie leaned forward and said directly into John's ear, "You don't need to hide, darling."   
  
John jumped at the sound of Freddie's voice.  
  
"She's sleeping," Freddie added. "She doesn't even know you're here right now."  
  
"I don't think we should take her home," Brian said very quietly. "Not unless someone is going to stay with her. She shouldn't be by herself after what happened."  
  
John stared straight ahead and winced, as if he could feel every emotion that Veronica had suffered through on the cold ground of the alley.  
  
"Perhaps you should take her to our flat," Freddie suggested.  
  
"Roger?" Brian glanced in the rearview mirror in order to get Roger's permission, as well.  
  
But for once, Roger was completely silent as he rested his head against Veronica's and snored softly.  
  
"I'll take that as a yes," Brian muttered to himself.  
  
"Deaky, you're welcome to stay with us tonight, darling," Freddie said in a low voice. "She may not know it yet, but she's going to need you."  
  
John nodded and left it at that. He couldn't go back to his own flat without knowing how Ronnie was doing. And besides, he _wanted_ to stay by her side.  
  
But Brian was right. He _was_ a trigger. He would only make Ronnie's anxiety worse and she wanted him to stay away; she had told him as much less than an hour earlier. And so, John made a firm promise to himself that no matter what happened that night, he would honor her wish. He would keep his distance, as difficult as it would be. He wouldn't touch her if he didn't have to. He wouldn't initiate any contact with her.  
  
If she approached him, if she gave him some kind of sign that he was wanted, then he would willingly break his own promise. But it had to be her choice.  
  
In the meantime, John allowed Brian to be the one to carry Veronica up the stairs. As they laid her on Freddie's bed, he allowed Freddie to be the one to tuck her hair behind her ear. And as they all wondered how to make her comfortable, he allowed Roger to be the one to pull her shoes off.   
  
In sleep, Veronica winced in pain as the four bandmates gaped at her feet.  
  
"Shit," Freddie muttered under his breath. "The poor darling."  
  
Excessive walking, cold weather, and the lack of support from a pair of socks had wreaked havoc on Veronica's feet. Her sneakers had rubbed the skin on her ankles and the top of her feet raw, leaving red marks just about everywhere and large painful blisters had formed on her toes. But perhaps the worst part was that the skin on the soles of her feet had been gradually grazed away and red sores glistened in the light of the bedside lamp. A stream of dried blood rested between her toes.  
  
John immediately turned away, already dangerously close to breaking his own promise. Brian ran a hand through his curls and sighed.  
  
"Out here on the street we'd gather and meet," Roger whispered with wide eyes. "And scruff up the sidewalk with endlessly restless feet."  
  
"Yes, I'm sure Veronica will be pleased to hear that she's inspired a song in you," Freddie observed.  
  
Veronica shivered then and Roger reached for a blanket. "Perhaps we should cover her?"  
  
"I don't know about that," Brian said doubtfully. "The sheets may rub her sores the wrong way and cause excrutiating pain."  
  
"What are you suggesting?" Freddie asked. "Should we adorn her with a pair of socks?"  
  
"If you put socks on my blistered feet while I was sleeping, I'd kill you," Roger said bluntly.  
  
"We need to wash her feet and bandage them," Brian said decisively. "That will prevent infection."  
  
"I'll start the bathtub," John said quietly and as he rushed from the room, he thought to himself that it was the only way he knew how to help. Sitting on the edge of the bathtub, he intermittently stuck a finger under the faucet to make sure the water was hot but not scalding.  
  
A few minutes later, once the bathtub was almost filled, Brian carried Veronica into the bathroom. "All right, John," he said. "If you'll just hold out your arms, I'll place her on your lap."  
  
"No," John said immediately, jumping to his feet. "No, no."  
  
"No?" Brian repeated, raising his eyebrows.  
  
"I don't want to t-trigger her."  
  
Brian felt a strong wave of sympathy wash over him. "John, you're not a trigger to her now. That was only when she was in the midst of an anxiety attack."  
  
"Perhaps we should wake her," John suggested nervously. "And then she can h-hold herself up."  
  
"We tried to wake her, darling," Freddie said sadly. "She's exhausted herself into a very deep sleep."  
  
"I can't," John protested. "I can't hold her. Someone else should do it."  
  
"You want one of us to hold _your_ girlfriend while you stand back and watch?" Roger asked, confused.  
  
"Roger's right, darling," Freddie agreed. "She should sit on your lap. Not Roger's."  
  
"You're forgetting one very important thing," John said very quietly.  
  
"What's that?" Roger asked.  
  
"She's not my girlfriend anymore is she?" And John looked away because he had underestimated how much those words would hurt.  
  
"Oh darling," Freddie said as he sat John back down on the edge of the bathtub. "Come now, remove your shoes. And your socks, too, though that's entirely optional. Put your feet in the water and hold this poor woman in your arms and heal her wounds!"  
  
"Very romantic, Fred," Brian noted.  
  
"Just don't let her turn around and see you, Deaky," Roger said helpfully. "It may shock her, coming out of a deep sleep and all..."  
  
"I think the hot water on her sores is going to shock her more than Deaky's presence," Brian said honestly.  
  
John's desire to help Veronica made him reluctantly remove his shoes and socks and roll up his jeans. As he held out his arms, he tried to convince himself that he wasn't breaking his promise. He was touching her, yes, but it was necessary. To prevent infection, like Brian had said.  
  
Brian gently placed Veronica on John's lap and she squirmed uncomfortably. John's eyes widened, thinking perhaps he had triggered her after all, but Brian put a comforting hand on his shoulder.  
  
"She's still asleep, John," he said gently. "She's just trying to take her sweatshirt off..."  
  
"Yes, yes, poor darling, she's probably sweating!" Freddie exclaimed. "It's hotter than hell in this bathroom!"  
  
"Well, don't stand there!" Roger said impatiently. "Help her, Freddie!"  
  
"Excuse me for trying to protect her modesty, Roger!" Freddie replied tartly. "What if she's not wearing anything underneath?"  
  
"Cool it, the both of you!" Brian warned them.  
  
"Cool it?" Roger repeated. "Nice pun, Brian. Did you do that on purpose?"  
  
"It doesn't matter what she's wearing!" Brian said tightly. "What's important is that she's comfortable!"  
  
"You're right," Freddie said bravely as he knelt upon the tile and carefully removed Veronica's sweatshirt. He let out an audible sigh of relief when he saw that she was, in fact, wearing a white tank top underneath.  
  
Veronica, blissfully ignorant in sleep, leaned back against John's chest. Momentarily forgetting that they weren't alone, John leaned down and placed a kiss on the top of her head. 

As Freddie began to roll up Veronica's jeans, he came face to face with the swell of her pregnant belly, which was bursting forth from jeans that were unbuttoned and unzipped. Even though he had never been in a similar situation, it still made his heart ache to know that she didn't quite fit into her pants.  
  
"Remind me when this is over to take the lovely Veronica shopping for a maternity wardrobe," he said with empathy.  
  
"She might not need it," Roger pointed out. "Not if she visits that man on the business card."  
  
"Roger," Brian whispered in warning.  
  
But John had already looked up. "What do you mean?"  
  
Realizing his error, Roger quickly shut his mouth. "Nothing."  
  
"Forget it, darling," Freddie said softly.  
  
There was an uncomfortable silence before John fixed them each with an unnerving stare. "You all know s-something that I don't."  
  
"Believe me, darling, I don't think you want to know," Freddie said, a hint of bitterness creeping into his voice.  
  
Brian sighed. "We need to tell him. He deserves to know the truth."  
  
"Quite right, Bri," Roger agreed, before adding quickly, "Go on then! Tell him!"

Brian shot him a look before saying slowly, "Deaky, when Freddie and Roger found Veronica earlier tonight, she was holding a business card..."  
  
He stopped for only a moment before forcing himself to continue.  
  
"...for an abortionist."  
  
Brian watched as that one word... _Abortionist_...slowly sunk into John's conscious mind and as the significance of it took hold of John's emotions. Completely helpless, Brian watched as John linked that one word with his precious Veronica and struggled to understand _why._  
  
Turning away, John put his legs in the hot water, not even bothering to do so slowly in order to grow accustomed to the temperature. Yes, it burned, but it was nothing compared to how he was currently _feeling._ His emotions were on fire.  
  
Nothing made sense anymore. He couldn't even imagine Ronnie going to such lengths, especially when she was doing exactly what her parents asked of her: Catholic husband, Catholic baby, Catholic life. So why would she ever consider an abortion?  
  
And why hadn't she felt she could come to him? Why was she pushing him away? And how would he ever be able to help her?  
  
With his back to his bandmates, John wrapped his arms around Ronnie's waist and hid his face in her hair.   
  
\---  
  
Veronica's eyes fluttered gently as she heard voices around her.  
  
 _Put your feet in the water and hold this poor woman in your arms and heal her wounds...  
_  
 _Just don't let her turn around and see you, Deaky. It may shock her, coming out of a deep sleep and all...  
_  
 _I think the hot water on her sores is going to shock her more than Deaky's presence..._  
  
The relaxing sound of running water filled Veronica's ears as a blanket of warm steam enveloped her. She squirmed uncomfortably as she thought about how very hot she was and tried to wriggle out of her giant sweatshirt.  
  
 _She's just trying to take her sweatshirt off...  
_  
 _Yes, yes, poor darling, she's probably sweating. It's hotter than hell in this bathroom!  
_  
 _Well, don't stand there, help her, Freddie!  
_  
 _Excuse me for trying to protect her modesty, Roger! What if she's not wearing anything underneath?  
_  
 _Cool it, the both of you!_  
  
Veronica felt gentle hands on her arms and the freeing sensation of the sweatshirt being pulled off her. She internally sighed with relief, feeling much more comfortable, and leaned against something very soft as sleep dragged her down once more.  
  
She was eventually woken by the feeling of being moved and the sensation of someone touching her hair.  
  
"Her eyes are open," Roger's voice whispered.  
  
 _Where am I?_ she thought to herself as she blinked stupidly at the water below her.  
  
As Veronica struggled through a sleepy fog, she tried to make sense of her surroundings. She was sitting on someone's lap, and she was being held there by a pair of arms around her waist, and whoever she was sitting on top of already had their feet in the water.  
  
"Veronica," Brian's voice said gently to her. "Veronica, you have some nasty sores on your toes and we're going to soak your feet in hot water to make you feel better. It may burn at first but..."  
  
And slowly, whoever was holding her moved their left leg out from underneath her. While she remained precariously balanced on his right thigh, he placed a firm hand underneath her left thigh and lowered her foot into the water.  
  
Veronica gripped both of his thighs and cried out in pain. Immediately, she was pulled from the water and sitting comfortably on his lap once more.   
  
"We know, darling," Freddie said soothingly. "We know it hurts. But once your feet are in the water it will feel fabulous, I promise you."  
  
As her left foot was once more hovered over the water, Veronica resisted.  
  
"Who's holding me?" she whispered.  
  
"Erm, it's not Deaky," Roger said, her alarm fueling his own. "So don't even think that."  
  
"Roger!" Brian hissed.  
  
Veronica looked down at the arms that were circled around her and recognized John's long fingers, and the ring on his middle finger. And realizing she was no longer hidden by the giant sweatshirt, she became very aware of how John's arms were resting directly above her obviously rounded belly and how very close he was to discovering her secret...if he hadn't guessed it already.  
  
"Please," she begged no one in particular as she tried to remove herself from John's lap and avoid the steaming water at the same time.  
  
"Veronica, it's very important that we prevent infection," Brian advised her. "But in order to do that, we need to cleanse your sores."  
  
"You don't need to go through the trouble," Veronica whispered as she succeeded in slinging a leg over the bathtub's edge. "I can do this at h-home."  
  
"But you can't go home," Roger said as he knelt by the tub and pushed her leg back onto John's thigh.  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"Someone needs to be with you in case you have another anxiety attack," Brian said softly as they all crowded around the bathtub in order to support her. "So you're staying with Freddie and Roger, at least for tonight."  
  
Veronica dropped her head and allowed her hair to hide her face as it twisted with the effort of holding in a sob. She felt so _exposed_ \- not only physically, with her pregnant stomach protruding from jeans that didn't even remotely fit anymore, but also emotionally, because they had all witnessed her lose control in the alleyway.  
  
Sensing her distress, Freddie reached around John to put a gentle hand on her shoulder. "You're not alone, darling."

"We're going to take good care of you," Roger added, patting her knee.  
  
"Just put your feet in the water and let us deal with the rest," Brian said encouragingly.  
  
Veronica shook her head miserably and opened her mouth to protest as she tried to shift herself off of John, but she stopped when she felt John press his cheek against hers.  
  
"I know you don't want me here," he whispered in her ear. "And I _will_ go. But first, you need to put your feet in the water. Only then will I let you..."  
  
He swallowed hard and closed his eyes against the words that were causing him so much grief.  
  
"...let you go."  
  
Veronica froze as his words pierced her deeply within, before recovering and nodding her assent.  
  
John slowly parted his legs so that Veronica's knees would drop slightly. Keeping one arm tightly wound around her waist, he grasped the edge of the bathtub with his free hand as he balanced her on his thighs and lowered himself towards the water.

As her feet were submerged in the hot water and she felt her wounds burn, Veronica let out an involuntary whimper.

"That's it," Brian whispered.  
  
And only when her breathing had slowed to normal and her torn feet had adjusted to the heat did John lift her off his lap and place her gently on the ledge. Without so much as a word, or a glance, he climbed out of the bathtub, dried off, and grabbing his shoes and socks, ran from the room.  
  
\---

Brian watched John go, before he turned to Veronica and said quietly, "You have our full support, Veronica, but in order for us to help you, you need to tell us what's happened to upset you so."  
  
Veronica rested her forearms on her knees and gazed into the water. "I'm sure you've already guessed by now."  
  
Brian and Freddie exchanged a look, before Freddie said, "That may be so darling, but we need to hear you say it out loud."  
  
"And I imagine that you need to hear yourself say it out loud, as well," Brian added.  
  
Veronica sighed. "I...I did something I shouldn't have."  
  
"You and every other person on this earth, my dear," Freddie pointed out in a gentle manner.  
  
"Nothing wrong with that," Roger piped up. "Only the good die young, you know."  
  
"Yes, well," Veronica straightened up and put a hand on her belly. "The result is this."  
  
Silence.  
  
Roger blinked at her. "You still haven't actually said it."  
  
"He's right, darling," Freddie added. "For all we know, perhaps you shouldn't have eaten an entire pint of ice cream and now you have indigestion."  
  
Veronica continued to stare into the bath water, as if the solution to all her problems was lurking underneath the surface, and whispered, "I'm pregnant!"  
  
Freddie knew that this was not welcome news, he'd known this even before he'd seen the abortionist's business card, but the optimist in him burst forth anyway and he exclaimed, "Darling! Congratulations!"  
  
Roger turned to Brian. "Would you pass the thermometer please?"  
  
"She's pregnant, Roger," Brian said firmly. "Not ill."  
  
"You don't need to congratulate me," Veronica said quietly. "I'm certainly not celebrating."  
  
"Not celebrating?" Freddie asked carefully.  
  
Veronica's lower lip trembled. "No. I'm in so much trouble, Freddie."  
  
And Freddie could tell that finally admitting it out loud to another human being was a relief to her.  
  
"You want to know who I call when I'm in trouble?" Roger said meaningfully. "Deaky!"  
  
"No!" Veronica cried out wildly. "Anything but that!"  
  
Brian raised his eyebrows. "You intend to keep this from him, Veronica?"  
  
"He can't...he can't know," Veronica insisted.  
  
"But why?" Roger asked curiously.  
  
Veronica shook her head.  
  
"You know exactly why," Freddie said softly, his eyes kind and encouraging. "Say it, darling."  
  
"I can't."  
  
"You can!" Freddie encouraged her. "You just won't."  
  
Veronica took a deep breath. "The...the baby..."  
  
"Yes?" Freddie coaxed her.  
  
"...the baby is his," Veronica said, before clamping a hand over her mouth, as if she had just divulged incriminating information.  
  
Brian shook his head. "Veronica, you must tell him."  
  
"Brian, I can't. It would ruin him."  
  
"No, darling," Freddie said emphatically. " _Not_ knowing will ruin him."  
  
"It's better that he never knows," Veronica whispered.  
  
"Darling, can I be frank with you?" Freddie asked.  
  
"No, but you can be Freddie," Roger volunteered.  
  
Veronica nodded her assent.  
  
"I can't tell you how thrilled I was when he found you," Freddie said, his voice ringing with sincerity. "You know our Deaky better than anyone. He's shy and unsure of himself but he has so much love in him. Since he met you, he's more outspoken, more confident. He even writes songs now, he sings on stage..."  
  
"Not by himself," Roger added, "but we're still proud of him."  
  
"Since he met you, he's just a new man," Freddie continued. "You made him live again."  
  
"Freddie, you're speaking in song again," Roger whispered.  
  
"Yes, excuse me," Freddie said apologetically. "What I meant to say was - don't take that away from him, darling. You don't know what it means to him."  
  
"You're still doing it," Roger said as he poked Freddie in the ribs.  
  
Freddie ignored him and continued to address Veronica. "You don't know what _you_ mean to him, dear."  
  
"You say all that as if I actually have a choice in this," Veronica said sadly, "when in fact, I don't. My parents would never allow our union and if they find out about..." She pressed both hands against her stomach, "...they'll kill us both."  
  
"Then I'll talk to your parents!" Roger said bravely.

Freddie held up a hand. "Roger, you will do no such thing!"  
  
"I will if it'll keep her away from that man on the business card - "  
  
"Roger, that's her choice," Brian said firmly. "Not ours."  
  
Veronica put a hand on Roger's shoulder. "That's sweet, Roger, and I appreciate the sentiment but..."

And shaking her head, her face fell as the enormity of her situation hit her once again, and Freddie hurried from the room.

"Nothing needs to be decided tonight," Brian said kindly.

"He's right, darling," Freddie agreed as he returned with a t-shirt and a pair of pajama pants. "What's important right now is that you're comfortable. We can find a solution tomorrow."

"Over breakfast," Roger confirmed.

Veronica finally mustered a smile and thanked them sincerely before they filed out of the bathroom to give her privacy. As she very carefully dried her feet and replaced her tank top with Freddie's t-shirt, she allowed the spark of hope in her chest to remain lit. A good night's sleep would bring her clarity and would douse this terrible night in flames, and when she awoke in the morning, she'd begin again.  
  
She was so consumed with optimism that it didn't even bother her when she realized she couldn't push her jeans down her hips because they were clinging too tightly to her new curves. No, it didn't bother her at first.  
  
But the more Veronica tugged and pulled, the more her alarm grew as it dawned on her that she was going to need to ask for a pair of scissors to cut herself out of her jeans. Sure, she could have slept it them, but there were already purple marks in her skin from the sheer tightness of the fabric and she didn't want to lose circulation in the middle of the night.  
  
Sighing, she leaned her head against the door, closed her eyes and...  
  
...saw John.  
  
Though she tried not to, she saw John clearly as she asked the band for scissors. He would look at her with concern, his eyes traveling down the length of her body to observe how she was stuck in her own pants, and his gaze would rest on her abdomen. The truth would reach out of her belly and grab him by the shirt and drag him down to the ground, where he would look up at her with eyes that screamed _why didn't you tell me?_ But then his love would break through his confusion and wrap itself around her and if that happened...  
  
...there would be no more choices. There would only be him.  
  
Shaking her head firmly, Veronica banished the premonition because it was calling to her more loudly than she cared to admit, and thought to herself that perhaps it was best if she didn't leave the bathroom at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I guess this isn't the last chapter after all! The fic took a slight detour that I didn't expect so, one more chapter after this one. 
> 
> Credit for the explanation on psychological astrology goes to Wikipedia, because I didn't even know psychological astrology was a thing.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is three months late but...DISCLAIMER: The lyrics used in this fic are from the song Only The Good Die Young, which belongs one hundred percent to the great Billy Joel.

_You say your mother told you all that I could give you was a reputation_  
 _She never cared for me_  
 _But did she ever say a prayer for me?  
  
_ **The Same Night  
  
** That's how they each ended up stranded on their own private island of thought.  
  
On one isle there was Veronica, feeling relieved that Brian, Freddie, and Roger knew her secret but still irrationally hoping that John didn't have a clue. And miles away on a completely different islet was John, trying to piece himself together for Veronica's sake and believing that the child he so desperately wanted belonged to another man. And safe on the mainland was Brian, Freddie and Roger, finally knowing the truth and praying Veronica would confess it to John, while wondering at what point it would be appropriate to interfere.  
  
It was Brian who finally splashed into the cold waters of chance and knocked on the bathroom door with the noble intention of bandaging the sores on Veronica's feet, while also trying to peer into her eyes and see if they held any indication of what she had decided to do.   
  
But no, the only information he received was that poor Veronica was a prisoner in her own pants, though she tried to deny it at first, insisting she liked them so much she wanted to sleep in them. But after her feet were properly bandaged, she lowered her head and asked in an embarrassed whisper for a pair of scissors, before retreating to Freddie's bedroom.  
  
\---  
  
As Brian entered the kitchen on his quest for scissors, he found Freddie pressed against the front door of the flat with his arms outstretched. Brian guessed that he was trying to prevent John, who had a firm hold on the doorknob, from leaving.  
  
Roger, who had a fistful of John's shirt, was crying out in a voice dripping with optimism, "At least you got to hold her one last time!"  
  
"Roger!" Brian hissed.  
  
Roger looked over his shoulder. "Oi! Do you think you can do better?"  
  
"P-please," John said unsteadily as he tugged on the doorknob in vain. "Please let me leave!"  
  
Brian, realizing that the scene in the bathroom may have been more difficult for John than they all thought, put a gentle hand on the bassist's shoulder and steered him away from the door. "John, you have to understand that Veronica is pregnant. Pregnant women can get...well, they can get rather emotional."  
  
"I didn't know you were so knowledgeable about pregnant women, Brian," Freddie said with interest. "Tell me, do you have a mistress in your closet?"  
  
"And children we don't know about?" Roger asked suspiciously.   
  
Brian rolled his eyes. "It's called real world knowledge. You just pick it up when you're out and about."  
  
"You didn't deny it, Brian, you whore!" Freddie gasped and was rewarded with a small smile from John.  
  
"Who picks up knowledge from the street?" Roger demanded. "I don't pick up information about pregnant ladies when I'm out in the _real_ world."  
  
"Clearly," Brian said tersely, before adding, "I need a pair of scissors. I'm afraid Veronica is stuck in her pants."  
  
Freddie sighed in sympathy as he opened a drawer and began to rummage through it, occasionally tossing something of interest onto the kitchen table.  
  
Roger caught a pack of cigarettes as they went flying through the air. "Perhaps one of these will make you feel better, Deaky."  
  
Freddie snatched them away immediately. "And blacken Deaky's pure lungs? Absolutely not! But a glass or two of Louis Roederer Cristal champagne might do wonders..."  
  
Brian shook his head. "What will really make you feel better, Deaky, is a good night's sleep."  
  
"How boring," Freddie muttered, before whispering to Roger, "On second thought, perhaps there is no mistress."  
  
Roger nodded. "You're right. There's probably just clogs in his closet."  
  
"Ah, there they are," Freddie said with satisfaction as he pulled out the scissors and placed them in John's hand.  
  
"What's this for?" John asked in surprise.  
  
"If anyone should have the honor of cutting off the lovely Veronica's pants, it should be you, my dear," Freddie said lightly, though his eyes were completely serious.  
  
"Please," John whispered. "Don't ask that of me."  
  
"There's no one better for the job," Roger said with a wink.  
  
John shook his head. "I can't. She's...afraid of me."  
  
"Yes, you're very scary darling," Freddie said with gentle sarcasm.  
  
"She isn't afraid of _you_ ," Brian said emphatically. "She's afraid you'll discover that she's pregnant. Don't forget that she doesn't know that _you_ know."  
  
"And you need to tell her that you know," Freddie added, "because if you tell her, she may come out with the entire truth."  
  
"The entire truth?" John repeated nervously.  
  
His three bandmates exchanged a glance, knowing they shouldn't be the ones to tell him that Veronica's child was _his._  
  
Instead, Brian fished the abortionist's business card from his pocket and placed it in John's other hand.  
  
"Good idea, Brian," Roger said agreeably. "An icebreaker in case they're looking for a topic to discuss."  
  
Brian ignored him and addressed John. "Give this to her. Tell her you know."  
  
"Now," Freddie said softly as he pushed John towards the bedroom door. "Go extract her from her knickers and talk to her, darling."  
  
\---  
  
Veronica was standing in the center of Freddie's bedroom, still trying to tug off her jeans, when there was a soft knock on the door.  
  
"Come in," Veronica said without hesitation, because she had been expecting the scissors to arrive at any moment.  
  
What she _hadn't_ expected was John being the one to bring them to her. She quickly pulled Freddie's t-shirt down to cover her stomach as John closed the door firmly behind him.  
  
"I was told you were stuck," John said as casually as he could, though she could detect a faint tremor in his voice.  
  
"I can manage," Veronica answered as she took a step back.  
  
John's gaze was soft, but he didn't smile. "How long have you been _managing_ for?"   
  
Veronica knew his question had more meaning than one. Not only was he asking her how long she had been trying to escape her pants, he was also asking her how long she had been trying to manage by herself in her current emotional state. He had blindsided her with the question, leaving her unprepared and totally exposed as she stared at him, her heart cloaked with dread.  
  
John held the scissors up and slowly walked towards her, as if he were approaching a timid animal that he didn't want to frighten. When she didn't move, he felt brave enough to get onto his knees in front of her.  
  
Looking up, John saw that Veronica's eyes were closed. She knew she couldn't run. She knew she couldn't hide. She knew she was finally cornered. As he gently lifted her t-shirt (or rather, Freddie's t-shirt), he noticed that she was hugging herself tightly and her fingers were trembling.  
  
Holding the t-shirt up a few inches, John came face to face with the gentle swell of her belly. Swallowing his regret and his jealousy, he pushed the thought of the baby away and instead focused on the situation at hand. Peeling away the corner of fabric that contained the button of her pants, John traced his finger over the purple indentation near her bellybutton, before inching his fingers between the jeans and her skin.  
  
Inhaling sharply, Veronica pushed his hands away and yanked the t-shirt back down.  
  
"Are you honestly afraid of me seeing you in your underwear?" John asked softly.  
  
 _No,_ Veronica thought to herself. _I'm trying to hide something else from you. Something far more important than underwear.  
_  
John folded his arms and stared up at her. "Or have you forgotten I've seen you with nothing on at all?"  
  
Veronica felt her cheeks burn red. She had forgotten about John's uncanny ability to make one's toes curl with a single sentence. Giving in, she allowed John to lift her shirt once more. He tucked the fabric between her fingers, obliging her to hold it up for him.  
  
She found she couldn't quite breath as John once more forced his hands underneath the rough fabric of her jeans, his palms brushing her hips. He continued to carefully drag his hands down the length of her, traveling from her hips and down to her thighs, as he forced her pants to submit to his will and unroll themselves slowly over his wrists.  
  
When her jeans were pooled around her ankles, he held them steady so that she could step out of them and found he couldn't take his eyes off her stomach.  
  
"Why didn't you tell me?" he asked in a very soft voice.  
  
Veronica swiftly pulled Freddie's pajama pants on as she tried to buy herself a little bit of time by stalling. "Tell you what?"  
  
"That you were p-pregnant," John said, refusing to back down.  
  
Veronica countered his question with one of her own. "How did you find out?"   
  
John got to his feet and pulled a piece of paper from his back pocket. He handed it to her and waited patiently as she unfolded it, only to discover it was the missing page from her medical records.  
  
"You dropped it on the sidewalk earlier today," John said quietly.  
  
Veronica stared at the paper in shock. She hadn't guessed that he had known the truth since this _afternoon._ And she had tried so hard to run away from him all night while dragging her secret in the dirt behind her but he had known the _entire_ time.  
  
Unnerved by her silence, John continued, "I mean, you didn't _have_ to tell me, it's really none of my business but..."  
  
"What do you mean, it's none of your business?" Veronica asked, surprised.  
  
"I know it's a p-private matter between you and Jacob Feller but..."  
  
"Jacob Feller?"  
  
"Y-yes," John and looked down at the floor so that she couldn't see the emotions flooding his eyes. "I just wanted to congratulate you and wish you both the best as you start your...your new family."  
  
Veronica's heart sunk as John's meaning finally dawned on her. "I turned down Jacob Feller's proposal."  
  
Dumbfounded, John unintentionally glanced up at her.  
  
"This isn't his child. John, it's _yours!"  
_  
She watched as the truth, a finely chiseled arrow poisoned by her secrecy, struck John straight in the heart. His eyes swept the room, looking for something stable and reliable to rest on - anywhere but at her pregnant belly. And then his lips parted in disbelief as he realized she had never intended to tell him this very important news.  
  
"Oh," he said as the abortionist's business card in his pocket grew heavier, like an anchor, and everything suddenly made sense. He studied the floor carefully, not trusting himself to speak.  
  
Veronica stared at him, waiting for him to verbally express his shock, but there was only an unsettling quietness.  
  
"John, say something," she said nervously.  
  
"What do you want me to say?" John whispered to the floor.  
  
Veronica looked at him helplessly. She had expected anger, she had expected distress, but instead she was faced with his stifling silence, which was infinitely worse. "You must have questions..."  
  
John slowly lifted his head and asked uneasily, "Is this why you've been avoiding me? Why you wouldn't answer my calls? Why you wouldn't meet me for coffee?"   
  
Guilt formed a whirlwind in the pit of Veronica's stomach. "Yes."  
  
John pressed his hand over his heart, before he brushed past her to stand at the window. Leaning his forehead against the glass, he stared out at the snow drifting through the darkness as Veronica's deception drifted through the darkness of his mind.  
  
Veronica instantly reached out for him by habit, before she drew her hand back uncertainly. "John, this is why I didn't want to tell you about the baby. I knew you'd be hurt and..."  
  
John looked over his shoulder. "You think I'm hurt because of the fact that you're _pregnant?"  
_  
Veronica found she couldn't speak in the face of his mounting despair.  
  
John turned fully and shoved his hand in his pocket, before reaching for her wrist and pressing something flat against her palm. Dropping her gaze, Veronica was stunned to see the abortionist's business card and as she covered her face with her hand, a torrent of words poured out of John like a waterfall of sorrow.  
  
"I'm h-hurt because you're p-pregnant with my child and you were going to rid yourself of it and not even...not even mention it to me! I'm hurt because you kept this from me, knowing how badly I wanted to...how badly I wanted to start a f-family with you! I'm hurt because you didn't f-feel like you could come to me. I wish you would have trusted me rather than feeling like you were completely alone!"  
  
Realizing that his voice was rising, John reigned in his emotions and turned back to the window. There was _so_ much more he needed to say to her and now was certainly the time, but he couldn't find it within himself to take her by the hand, sit her down, and be honest. He couldn't bring himself to bear his soul to her when, in the last week, she had so effectively packed away her heart in a cardboard box and duck-taped it shut.   
  
"John please," Veronica whispered as she put a tentative hand on his back and he flinched. "You have every right to be angry with me but please keep talking to me."  
  
John inadvertently looked down at her and, even though it was the wrong time to do so, he accidentally fell in love with her all over again as she looked up at him with wide eyes that were filled with tears and cheeks flushed from the heat of their conflict...  
  
...and though he felt betrayed, he knew he wouldn't be able to watch her drown in his accusations and declarations of love, which would surely fly out of him in stammered words and broken sentences. So he pulled himself away from her and said quietly, "I...I can't."   
  
Veronica's lower lip trembled dangerously as she watched him walk toward the door, his silence lacerating her heart. And though part of her knew she deserved to feel every ounce of his misery, another part of her couldn't quite believe that he would leave her like this, when she needed him so much. Her raging pregnancy hormones heard her cry of outrage and rose to her defense.  
  
"Go then," she taunted him gently. " _Go_ and leave me be, like you should have to begin with."  
  
With his hand on the doorknob, John turned and stared at her in disbelief.  
  
"Like you should have listened to your friends all those years ago and left me alone to be the pure virgin-in-white daughter of old man Tetzlaff!" Veronica continued as her voice rose angrily. "And then none of this would have ever happened!"   
  
"Don't say that," John whispered.  
  
"I don't know why I ever let you start walking me home," Veronica continued, her voice shaking. "I don't why I couldn't keep my legs shut!"  
  
"You _promised_ me you were ready!" John said darkly. "You promised me you wouldn't regret it. And if you hadn't promised me either of those things I would have _never_ touched you, I wouldn't have..."   
  
"...held me that Christmas Eve at my grandmother's funeral?" Veronica asked hotly. "I shouldn't have allowed that either because that's where this all started!"  
  
She found that her words were like darts and she couldn't stop aiming them at him.  
  
"I wish you had never proposed to me with that..."  
  
"Ronnie, please..." John pleaded softly.  
  
"...with that _cupcake_ and sometimes I think..."  
  
She stopped and held her breath as the enormity of what she was about to say washed over her.  
  
John's eyes lit up with emotional electricity. "Go on, say it."  
  
"No."   
  
John's upper lip twisted bitterly. "Don't stop now, Ronnie. _Say it."_  
  
Veronica hesitated only a moment more before exclaiming, "It would have been better if I never bumped into you that night in the bar! I wish someone else had spilled their drink on you!"  
  
As soon as the words were out, she clamped a hand over her mouth and watched her words extinguish the light in John's eyes and replace it with tears that were turning the soft gray of his eyes into a dark charcoal.  
  
"And to think there was a time I thought you were m-mine," John whispered.  
  
With a sob, Veronica turned and threw open the windows. As she leaned dangerously over the windowsill and found herself surrounded by snowflakes, she squeezed her eyes shut, as if she could block out John's anguished expression from her mind.  
  
She thought she knew what had been best for him, but she had clearly been wrong and the disappearance of his light had been the result. And then she had gone and made everything ten times worse by saying things she didn't mean.  
  
And he was too beautiful a soul to be suffering so.  
  
Veronica felt long fingers grasp her arms, pulling her upright. She felt strong arms envelope her in a safe embrace, holding her tightly against a chest that was rising and falling just as quickly as her own. She felt soft, brown hair surrounding her from behind, shielding her from the cold air and any prying eyes.  
  
As John stood behind her, kissed her jawline gently, and whispered in her ear, Veronica ripped the abortion card into tiny pieces and threw it out into the snow as her tears became airborne, believing for a moment that they could fly like snowflakes, before joining the business card fragments on the pavement below.  
  
Veronica told John _everything._ How terrified she had felt when the doctor had told her she was pregnant, how she had spent the entire weekend paralyzed in her bed by fear as she tried to figure out what to do. How she was sure her parents wouldn't let her keep the baby, so she decided not to tell him what had happened because she didn't want him to experience the pain of knowing about a child he could never have. How brave she had tried to be all week, how she had planned to tell her parents but her father's severe reaction to the news of another unwed girl's pregnancy had changed her mind. How she had felt so emotionally lost that she had pulled on a pair of jeans that didn't fit and walked around London until she was physically lost, as well.  
  
But most of all, she apologized. For the fact that her hormones were on fire. For not telling him the truth. For avoiding him, for running away from him, for being secretive. For everything she had just said to him.  
  
And John, sweet as ever, had reassured her over and over again that it was all right, that he understood, and helping her onto the bed, he pulled a blanket over them and thought to himself that at least here, in Freddie's bed of all places, nothing could hurt them. Not even each other. He held her as tightly as he could, letting her know it was all right to succumb to sleep and that her flaming hormones were safe with him.  
  
But though John was urging her to sleep, he remained wide awake because everything that he still had to say to her was a weight on his heart and it kept his eyes open and his mind spinning as the minutes passed by.  
  
Finally, not able to withstand the pressure any longer, he decided with quiet determination to get his feelings out while she was sleeping.  
  
"Ronnie?" he whispered.  
  
"Hmm?"  
  
 _She's still awake._ John internally sighed with disappointment.  
  
"Nothing," he said quietly.  
  
He allowed at least twenty minutes to pass before he tried again.  
  
"Ronnie?"  
  
Silence.  
  
John took a deep breath and let it out quietly.   
  
"I...I know you're asleep right now but I have to tell you how...how I f-feel. And perhaps I'll have the courage to tell you all this tomorrow but in case I don't..."  
  
He pressed a gentle kiss on the top of her head before he began in a whisper...  
  
"I'm sorry. Ronnie, I'm so sorry that I did this to you. I'm sorry I let this happen." He squeezed his eyes shut. "I'm sorry that I wasn't more careful, that I wasn't paying more attention, that I didn't notice that the..." Even though Ronnie was sleeping, John found himself blushing. "That it broke."  
  
When there was still no answer from Ronnie, John allowed relief to take over his senses, making him feel a tiny bit braver.  
  
"But...in a way I'm _not_ sorry. And that's very s-selfish of me. But I'm not sorry because this...this child that we made _together_ connects us in a way that can never be undone. Unless you...unless you..."   
  
He felt tears burn his eyelids but he forced himself to continue because he would never be able to sleep unless he confessed everything he was feeling. _All_ of it.  
  
"...unless you go and see that man on that card. And I want to fight you on it. You have idea how much it's taking me not to..." John stopped speaking in order to swallow his emotions before he continued, "...beg you not to do this. That it feels like the only t-tangible evidence of my love for you will be gone forever."  
  
John gathered Ronnie more fully in his arms, savoring the feeling of her body pressed against his and knowing their unborn child was resting safely between them.  
  
"I want to ask you not to but how can I? It's your body, Ronnie. It belongs to _you._ And I have no choice but to support you, even if I have to do so from afar..."  
  
John buried his nose in her hair and breathed in her scent and though he fought against it, a tear fell from his eye, tricked over the mountain of his nose, and dropped into her curls.  
  
"And I know it would have been easier if none of this had ever happened but I'm _glad_ it did. You changed me, Ronnie. I didn't think I'd ever find someone. Neither did my friends, for that matter."  
  
He thought of how they had teased him endlessly and how half of them had warned him to stay away, while the other half had gleefully encouraged him, just to see what would happen. Just to see if he had the nerve to go for it.  
  
"But you were selfless and kind and you took a shy, awkward bassist by the hand and made him believe that perhaps he...perhaps he could be a rock star. Perhaps he could take on the world. Perhaps he...perhaps he had s-something to offer to the girl he loved so much."  
  
John sighed.  
  
 _"You_ , Ronnie. And I only wish I could have done the same for you. I wish I could have elevated _you_ to that level of confidence, I wish I could have shown you that you were...more than what your parents thought you were, that you were worth fighting for, that you were...everything to me."  
  
He almost decided against telling Ronnie what he wanted to say next, before reminding himself that she was sleeping and wouldn't hear him anyway.  
  
"I never told you this, but I bought you a ring." He let out a low, humorless laugh. "I spent everything I had left on it and dared to believe you would say yes. But I didn't have the courage to give it to you because that same night, you told me about Jacob Feller and I was f-forced to say goodbye to you..."   
  
John had felt he _couldn't_ give it to her at that point. He had been so shocked by the news that Ronnie had been proposed to by someone else and so distraught by the fact that they really did have to separate this time.  
  
"I s-suppose what I'm trying to tell you is that I know I had no right asking you to be m-mine. I had no right to ask you to love me in that way. But Ronnie, I couldn't help it. I was so in love. I still am. But I f-feel like I've ruined your life."  
  
And he ran a hand across his wet eyes and sniffed back the contents of his runny nose. "And there you have it."  
  
\---  
  
As John went silent, Veronica stared at his chest, her eyes wide.  
  
John's words had put everything into perspective for her in a way that made her feel uncomfortable, guilty, and enlightened all at once. Before, she had been shackled by her parents, the church, and everyone's expectations, but now she realized there was something so much worse than their disappointment and that was John's sadness. And there was something that was so much more important than being the perfect daughter and that was John's love.  
  
And though he was quiet now, his words continued to enclose her in the softest of embraces. She allowed everything she felt for him to well up in her chest, and up into her throat, until all she could think was, _I want to fight for him._  
  
She knew now that she would always fight for John, to keep that beautiful flame of hopeful love burning brightly in his eyes. She had the key to his everlasting happiness growing within her and all she had to do was stand up to her parents. She smiled slightly as she realized he had managed to call her true self out from deep within her and she was _Ronnie_ once more.  
  
Her hope was momentarily dampened by sadness as she thought to herself, _how could he ever think he had ruined my life?  
_  
Clearing her throat, she said out loud, "Don't ever say that."  
  
John jumped and looked down at Ronnie in shock.  
  
"You heard all of that?" he asked in a mortified whisper.  
  
"I did," Ronnie said apologetically. "I was awake the entire time."  
  
John blushed furiously as he tried to climb out of Freddie's bed but with surprising speed, Ronnie intercepted him, sitting on his lap so that he couldn't escape from her.  
  
"I'm sorry I didn't stop you but I felt like you needed that, John," she said softly. "You needed to say all of that out loud, without anything holding you back, and I needed to hear it."  
  
John shook his head and tried to hide his expression with his hand, but Ronnie firmly laced his fingers between her own.  
  
"You think you ruined my life," she whispered, "but you didn't. You made my life _better._ I don't think you could ever ruin anything. You infuse magic into everything you touch...electronics, instruments... _me._ I actually have life inside of me and that's because of you."  
  
John, who had been staring at their clasped hands, looked up at her in awe.  
  
"John, I received the abortionist's card by accident," Ronnie continued. "And I'm sorry you had to find it. But when you were holding me at the window, I ripped it up. It was never really an option because I knew the child was yours and because of that, it needed to find it's way into this world, no matter who ended up raising it."  
  
John gently freed one of his hands so that he could touch her face, though his fingers were trembling.  
  
"I have no regrets and I never will," Ronnie said sincerely. "I wasn't expecting to fall in love with you but I'm glad I did. I feel so lucky to have met you and that you chose _me_ to love you. I would never wish that away, but I do wish that things had played out differently because this situation is extraordinarily difficult. But I realize now that you are the most important thing to me. _You_. And I want to spend the rest of forever making it up to you."  
  
She watched as hope lit up John's eyes once more.  
  
"You mean..." he whispered.  
  
Ronnie nodded and smiled at him. "I'm yours. This baby is yours. And we will be a family if...if that's what you want."  
  
John inhaled sharply, hardly daring to believe it, before pressing her against him in a crushing hug. "Tomorrow I'm going to ask your parents for your hand."  
  
"What do you want with it?" Ronnie asked curiously.  
  
John pulled away, his eyes searching hers. "What?"  
  
"My hand..." The corner of Ronnie's mouth twitched as her eyes sparkled.  
  
A smile slowly spread across John's face as he placed his fingers on her collarbone and slipped them up her neck to run his hands through her hair. "You know _exactly_ what I want with it."  
  
Ronnie let out a small laugh, before it turned into a sob. "My parents are going to kill me."  
  
"Then they'll have to kill me too," John said bravely.  
  
Veronica smiled gratefully but as John cradled her in his arms, she thought to herself, _you don't know how likely that is_...  
  
\---  
  
Out in the hallway, Freddie opened the door a crack and smiled to himself when he saw John and Ronnie curled up together. Their slow, rhythmic breathing told him that they had finally fallen into an exhausted sleep.  
  
"Go to sleep and dream again," he whispered. "Soon your hopes will rise and then..."  
  
A soft snore from the living room made Freddie look over his shoulder. Brian's long and lanky form was stretched out on the sofa, a rather small blanket covering him from his hips to his shoulders, one arm flung over his eyes. And sitting upon the floor and leaning against the very same sofa was Roger, eyeing a forgotten Scrabble board.  
  
"Poor Deaky," he was saying as he shook his head sadly. "His own fiery love was the one thing he couldn't protect her from."  
  
"Perhaps that's enough to drink, darling," Freddie said sternly. "You're getting philosophical on me."  
  
Roger nodded in agreement and placed his bottle of beer in one of Brian's clogs. "At least these are good for something."  
  
Freddie took one last glance at the lovebirds that were nesting quietly in his bed, before he closed the door, while singing softly.

"...from all this gloom life can start anew. And there'll be no crying soon."  
  
 **The Next Morning  
**  
Ronnie let out little breath of fear.  
  
It was imperceptible to all except for John, who was sitting next to her on a love seat in the parlor of the Tetzlaff residence. Wishing to support her but also wanting to avoid a public display of affection that Ronnie's parents would certainly not approve of, John inched his hand closer and lay his pinky on top of hers.  
  
Mr. Tetzlaff, situated on the love seat across from them, cleared his throat. "To what to do we owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit?"  
  
That was John's cue. Ronnie looked over at him nervously.  
  
But he was prepared. His long brown hair was brushed carefully, he was wearing a tidy, gray suit, and the gaze he had leveled at her father was clear. The only thing that may have given away any sign of the anxiety he was feeling was the way he had suddenly clasped his hands together tightly, as if he were trying to keep his fingers from trembling. 

Though it was not an appropriate time to do so, Ronnie found herself admiring the way his long lashes framed his gray eyes, the graceful arch of his eyebrows, the slight shadow above his lip...  
  
"Sir," John said respectfully. "I've come to ask for your daughter's hand in marriage."  
  
Mr. Tetzlaff's face remained calm, but Ronnie could tell when her father was angry, and the tinge of bright red that was spreading up his neck to his face was about to give it away.  
  
"No," he said flatly.  
  
"Dad..." Ronnie began quietly.  
  
"Veronica, we've told you no before. Bringing him before us is never going to change that."  
  
"But I don't want to marry anyone else," Ronnie countered softly.  
  
"Our answer is final," Mr. Tetzlaff said firmly and beside him, Mrs. Tetzlaff lowered her eyes to the floor as an air of unpleasantness permeated the room.  
  
Ronnie took a deep breath and gathering every ounce of courage she possessed, she set her secret free.  
  
"I'm pregnant."  
  
Her father stared at her. "Excuse me?"  
  
Ronnie lifted her chin and said it with a bit more confidence. "I'm pregnant!"  
  
Mrs. Tetzlaff burst into tears, while Mr. Tetzlaff opened and closed his mouth a few times, like an overgrown fish, before he turned an accusing look upon John. "Is the child yours?"  
  
"Yes sir," John said quietly.  
  
There was a terrible silence, broken only by the sound of Mrs. Tetzlaff's sniffles and the incessant tapping of Mr. Tetzlaff's foot upon the polished floor. Ronnie found she couldn't look at either one of them as the tension steadily built between the four of them, until finally...  
  
"I have never been so disappointed in you!" Mr. Tetzlaff exclaimed.  
  
Ronnie shrunk back from his ire as John came to her rescue.  
  
"Please, sir. It was my fault."  
  
"Yes, I know that," Mr. Tetzlaff said in a voice of steel. "You're the devil that's corrupted my daughter!" He turned back to Ronnie. "You do realize fornication is a sin, Veronica?"  
  
Ronnie's cheeks turned red. "Yes, Dad but..."  
  
"And after we told you to stop seeing him!" Mrs. Tetzlaff whispered.  
  
"I _tried_ to honor your wishes!" Ronnie said, her voice ringing with sincerity. "I did say goodbye to him, just like you told me to! Before yesterday, I hadn't seen him for two months. But then I learned I was..."  
  
She bowed her head and John reached for her hand, throwing caution to the wind that was making the branches outside the window creak dangerously.  
  
Mr. Tetzlaff's face was turning an unbecoming shade of purple.   
  
Ronnie got to her feet as a tear streamed down her cheek. "I did disobey you! And I did lie. I'm sorry that I've disappointed you so. But what's done is done and I am _begging_ for your forgiveness! I am begging for your help and your love and your understanding! And if you won't support me, then...then John will."  
  
"This is inconceivable," Mr. Tetzlaff muttered.  
  
Ronnie looked her father straight in the eyes and quoted, "Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners - of whom I am the worst. But for that very reason I was shown mercy so that in me, the worst of sinners, Christ Jesus might display his _immense patience_ as an example for those who would believe in him and receive eternal life." She dropped her voice to a whisper. "Timothy 1:15-16."  
  
Her parents stared at her in surprise and Ronnie could tell that though they felt betrayed, they couldn't help but be a tad impressed.  
  
"I have sinned in the eyes of the church," Ronnie continued, though she didn't add that she didn't believe for a moment that her love for John was a sin, "but I'm asking you both to have patience with me and forgive me. I'm asking you both to welcome John and this child into our family. I'm giving you an opportunity help us make this right, so that people won't begin to talk when they see me growing bigger with no wedding band on my finger."  
  
A final tear fell from Mrs. Tetzlaff's eye, before she turned to her husband and yanked on his sleeve. "For the love of God, say yes! We don't want her to have a reputation!"  
  
Mr. Tetzlaff glanced at his wife, before he sighed and addressed John. "Under three conditions, the first being that you must convert to the Catholic faith."  
  
"Yes, sir," John agreed immediately.  
  
"The second condition is that you must marry my daughter as soon as possible, before she begins to show."  
  
"Yes, sir," John said again.  
  
And for the first time since John had entered the house that morning, Mr. Tetzlaff's face softened. "And the third condition is that you take good care of my daughter and my grandchild."  
  
John nodded enthusiastically. "I promise."  
  
Mr. Tetzlaff stuck his hand out and John shook it respectfully.  
  
"Thank you," Ronnie whispered as she hugged her parents and after they had exchanged cordial goodbyes and a promise to meet to discuss wedding plans, Ronnie and John hurried from the house.  
  
Once they were alone on the sidewalk, John turned to her with a smile that lit up his entire face. "I'm so proud of you!"  
  
Ronnie tried to smile, but found she was still quite rattled from the entire experience.  
  
John got down on one knee and reached into his pocket. "I was going to bring you somewhere special to do this but I...I just can't wait." He looked nervously at the front door of the Tetzlaff house, as if he were afraid her father would be there, changing his mind.  
  
Opening the small black box of velvet, John revealed a beautiful silver ring with an exquisitely cut diamond. Ronnie's mouth dropped open as she realized this was the ring he had bought for her the day she broke his heart.  
  
"Will you marry me?" John asked as he looked up at her hopefully.  
  
Ronnie bit her lip, before nodding quickly. As John slipped the ring on her finger, she burst into tears.  
  
"Oh Ronnie," he said softly as he rose to his feet and hugged her tightly. "Don't cry. It's going to be all right now."  
  
And they stayed like that on the sidewalk for a few minutes, having no idea that they were secretly being watched. As the parlor curtains fluttered closed, Mrs. Tetzlaff turned away from the window and, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief, said, "I think he's going to take good care of her."  
  
"But he's not Catholic," Mr. Tetzlaff grumbled.  
  
"No," Mrs. Tetzlaff agreed, "but he's kind and surely that should count for something?"  
  
Mr. Tetzlaff put an arm around his wife and sighed. "I suppose you're right, dear."  
  
\---  
  
Opening the passenger door of Silver Bullet, Ronnie felt for the ground with her toes because she was unable to tear her eyes away from her new ring. She had admired it the entire way home and now that they had arrived at her flat, she was still just as mesmerized.  
  
John reached into the car and scooped her into his arms.  
  
"John!" she protested with a laugh. "I can walk!"  
  
"No, no," John insisted. "We need your feet to heal so you can walk down the aisle to me. I'm not taking any changes."  
  
Looping her arms around his neck, Ronnie smiled at him and allowed him to carry her up to her flat. She finally allowed relief to flood through her veins as she retreated to her bedroom, kicked off her flats and pulled the dress that she had worn especially for the occasion over her head.  
  
Feeling a pair of eyes on her bare back, Ronnie looked over her shoulder. John had been leaning against the door frame watching her, but when she saw him, he blushed and looked away.  
  
Adorned in only her black underwear (she had chosen the color based on the circumstances, figuring her encounter with her parents would not be pleasant), Ronnie wrapped a modest arm around her chest and went to him. Taking him by the hand, she pulled him further into the room.  
  
John swallowed hard as he studied the wall behind her. "I didn't mean to invade your privacy but y-you just looked so lovely and I wanted to tell you how I'm going to buy y-you and the baby a house and I..."  
  
The corner of Ronnie's mouth lifted in a small smile as she took his hands and pressed them against her swollen stomach. "You can look at me, John. I'm going to be your wife, after all."  
  
John slowly let his gaze fall on her face, before his eyes roamed down her body to observe his hands, which were protectively cupping her belly. He traced a trembling finger down her abdomen and around her belly button.  
  
"I love you," he whispered as he slowly looked back up at her and, before she could reply, he pressed his lips against hers.  
  
Ronnie marveled at the fact that they were now free to love each other without barriers, without fear, without restraint. And apparently, without any perception of time because before Ronnie knew it, night had fallen. Hours upon hours had gone by and, curled in John's arms with his palm resting on her bare rounded belly, she thought gleefully to herself, _contraception be damned._  
  
 **January 18, 1975  
**  
In a small, sunlit room tucked away on the second floor of the church, Ronnie stood at the window and watched her wedding guests mingle on the front lawn.  
  
As she twisted the new wedding band on her left ring finger, she could hardly believe that she was now Mrs. John Deacon. And her happiness had been so overwhelming that she had felt the need to slip away from everyone else and savor this moment by herself quietly, before the festivities began.  
  
She watched as her parents smiled and chatted with John's mum and sister, and as Freddie's fluffy white boa caught the sunlight and nearly blinded Roger, and as Brian gently coaxed a little squirrel back to the edge of the wood where it was much safer, and as their family and friends coexisted in peace.  
  
The creak of the door below, followed by footsteps on the ancient stone stairway, warned her that she was no longer alone. Turning, she saw John holding a small box, his smile brighter than the late afternoon sun. He offered the box to her shyly.  
  
With a curious smile, Ronnie accepted it and, lifting the lid, felt her face break into a delighted grin.  
  
Inside the box, surrounded by silver tissue, was a beautiful vanilla cupcake with pristine white frosting that matched her wedding dress perfectly. Small, round silver sprinkles adorned soft swirls of buttercream.   
  
The corner of John's mouth lifted slightly. "Are you going to hide it under our bed?" he teased.  
  
Ronnie laughed. "No. And for two reasons."  
  
John put his hands on her waist and pulled her closer.  
  
"One, I'm pregnant and I'm always hungry," Ronnie said.  
  
John grinned. "And your second reason?"  
  
Ronnie's smile slowly disappeared. "When I saved the cupcakes before, it was because I was afraid. The cupcakes you gave me were the only physical proof I had that you cared about me and I was afraid that if I ate them, you'd disappear. But John, you've given me a ring, you've given me a home, you've given me a child...I don't need to save a cupcake anymore to know that you're mine."  
  
John's gaze softened and he opened his mouth to say something, but his reply stuck in his throat. He tried a second time, before he bit his lip and looked down at her helplessly.  
  
Ronnie stood on her toes and leaned her forehead against his. "It's all right. You can tell me tonight when I'm asleep."  
  
John's lips brushed against hers lightly, but the kiss was interrupted by Roger's voice, echoing through the church from below them.  
  
"Deaky! _Deaky!"  
  
_ "For God's sake, Roger!" Brian's voice exclaimed. "We're in a church!"   
  
As they continued to quarrel, Ronnie heard Freddie softly singing Queen's song, Jesus, and she imagined him twirling his boa in time to music that only he could hear.  
  
Though they were amused, John and Ronnie stared at each other regretfully, because they knew their time together would have to wait until the very last guest had left that night, likely in the early morning hours. But there was so much to celebrate in the meantime and John gently kissed Ronnie's cheek as he took her hand.  
  
Ronnie felt his kiss tingle from her cheek down to her heart, where it spread throughout her chest like a tonic of joy.   
  
What they didn't yet know was that they had a long journey before them, one that would include many stops, including reconciliation with her parents, the birth of their first child, five more children after that, and unbelievable highs and inconceivable lows. All of this would result in a lifetime of love.  
  
No, Ronnie didn't know that yet, but she did know that everything was going to be all right and, smiling, she looked up into John's soft gray eyes and saw forever.

 _ **THE END**_ _(though we all know it's really only the beginning!)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure why, but this chapter was extremely difficult to write. I rewrote the confrontation scene between John and Ronnie at least five times before I felt it was presentable; hopefully you all agree and enjoyed reading this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> I'd like to sincerely thank Ra_chelB, who gave me the inspiration for the scene where John pours out his heart to Ronnie while she "sleeps." This was entirely her idea; she answered a prompt about who was more likely to talk to the other while they were asleep and what she wrote was SO beautiful that I immediately asked permission to interpret it in some way for this fic and she graciously agreed. A thousand thank yous, my dear!
> 
> And thank you to all of you who have left kudos, commented, and/or read to the very end. It's appreciated more than I can say. If you have any thoughts at all on what you've just read, please don't be afraid to comment. I'd love to hear from you and any feedback helps me grow as a writer!


End file.
